


Ranier University

by englishrose2011



Series: GDP AU [14]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Leashing of a Guide, Mention of sexual abuse (in the past), Please let me know if I have missed a tag, legal slavery in the form of the GDP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 16:38:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 66,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2199159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/englishrose2011/pseuds/englishrose2011
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair is now back at Ranier Univsersity and nothing is going to be easy for him.<br/>For Simon Banks it takes a more personal turn when his young son looks towards the GDP as a career, and Blair has to face humiliation from the GDP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> With many thanks to my beta reader, great job as always, all faults are mine

Jim Ellison pulled into the parking lot at the edge of Rainier University and turned off the engine of his "classic" blue and white truck. His icy blue eyes scanned the University's GDP office before settling on his companion. Blair Sandburg, his newly bonded and reluctant guide, was like a cat on a hot tin roof; he practically vibrated with barely suppressed energy. One slender hand rested on his sentinel's leg where the strong fingers gave an impromptu and unconscious massage to Ellison's muscles. Icy eyes warmed with hidden amusement as the sentinel studied his guide of five weeks. It was obvious that the younger man's emotions were at fever pitch.

Jim smiled, "Calm down, Sandburg. Take some nice, slow, easy breaths. Listen to your sentinel, kid."

Blair froze at the gentle rebuke and then followed the smiling command. Once Jim was happy with the slowed heartbeat, he said, "Okay, let's get this over and done with. We see this Dexter character and then we're out of there for good. After that we see Dr. Woodward, check out your office and you're in business. Right?"

"Right." Jim heard the nervous edge to his guide's voice.

Ellison exited his truck and joined his guide on the pavement. As they walked toward the GDP office, he could feel Blair's steps slow in reluctance. Ellison paused before entering to let his guide catch up with him. "Remember, Sandburg, it's in and out. No one is going to hold you here." Blair nodded but reached for the sentinel's arm with a shaking hand. Ellison caught the cold hand and squeezed it comfortingly.

"Ready, Chief?"

A long, steadying breath later, Ellison got his answer. "As I'll ever be. Yes."

The receptionist wore the uniform of the GDP administration corps. She looked up at Jim and Blair and smiled, liking what she saw. "Can I help you, sirs?" Please make it something I can help you with. The young guy is kinda cute.

"I'm Sentinel James Ellison. Mr. Sandburg, who is my guide, is resuming his doctoral studies at Rainier today. I was told there was documentation we needed to take care of here."

"Of course, Sentinel, please take a seat." Her gaze slid over Blair as if he suddenly had ceased to exist, all her previous admiration gone when she realized he was a guide, a nobody. She almost commented on the sentinel's mode of address for his guide, "Mr. Sandburg" but decided against it as she met his unfriendly chill blue gaze. Experience told her that sentinels didn't take kindly to anyone telling them what they could or couldn't do with their guides... intuition told her this one would resent interference more than most.

Jim had watched as Blair noted the receptionist's dismissal of his presence and blushed in unwarranted embarrassment. The deep blue eyes fixed on the carpet as Jim placed him in a chair next to him.

The receptionist pressed the intercom, "Officer Dexter, Sentinel Ellison is here."

The GDP officer came out of her office and headed for Jim. Blair slid down from the chair, onto his knees, and brought his hands behind his back. He bent his head down, torn between shame and fear. He felt Jim's hand on the back of his neck. Blair heard a babble of young voices and tried to hide behind a curtain of his hair. His embarrassment changed into the beginnings of anger. A teacher, a doctoral candidate... on his knees like...like...some... The warm hand tightened briefly on the back of his neck and Blair silently thanked his sentinel for centering him.

The kind of noise only a group of teenagers could make drew the GDP officer's attention went from the sentinel to the door. A group of high school students were crowding into the the reception area. She smiled briefly at Ellison and apologized,

"Sorry, Sentinel, one moment please while I settle these students."

"Good Morning, thank you for coming. I would like to welcome you to the Rainier GDP station. While you are visiting us, please take the opportunity to get to know who we are and what we accomplish. I am sure that you will find that a career in the GDP is an exacting, but rewarding, profession. We are here to help both Sentinels and Guides reach their full potential. If you decide to join us, you can be part of that exciting work."

Blair leaned into his sentinel's leg as he heard the loud comments of the students regarding the sentinel and guide... especially the guide... in the room.

Responding to the students' curiosity, Lieutenant Dexter turned, "I am sure that Sentinel Ellison won't mind if you see what...".

"He will and does lady," Jim's voice had gone ice cold. All they supposedly had to do was go in and sign some papers and now this clown of a woman was trying to involve them in a GDP recruitment drive. Fat chance, Lady.

As you wish Sentinel," she placated hurriedly. Dexter was a little taken aback by his tone and waved Ellison and his guide through to her office. "I'll be with you in a minute."

She returned to her group of students. When she was able to turn them over to Guard Knight for a tour of the facility she went to join Sentinel Ellison in her office. Sitting down she handed over a sheaf of papers. "You need to sign the top document confirming that Guide Sandburg has your permission to attend Rainier. The rest explains how we will handle your guide's presence on Campus." She settled back and watched the sentinel read. Ellison wasn't reacting to her carefully thought out plan as she had anticipated. Tentatively, she began to enumerate some of the more important features of the procedures she'd evolved to handle this singular case of a Guide attending University. "In the event your guide overloads, we will bring him to this station where we have an isolation room, and... " The sentinel interrupted her casually, waving aside her professional knowledge as if the time she had spent in University and GDP Training were nothing.

"No. If he overloads and is coherent, you put him in his office until I collect him. Now, what's this crap about non-fraternization? "Communication will be limited to professional topics during the normal working hours with students and staff?" Why the hell would you come up with something like that?"

Dexter cast a patronizing glance over the guide. "Well, given his sexual history, we thought precautions should be taken to avoid undue trouble, of course." She watched as color swept over the guide's cheeks and was puzzled. She wouldn't have expected such a one as that to feel shame. Her attempt to figure out the enigma that was Blair Sandburg ended with his sentinel's ice cold voice.

"Listen to me and listen good because I am ONLY SAYING THIS ONCE." She shivered as the cold voice mutated into the deep growl of a dark sentinel. "Blair Sandburg does not have a *sexual history.* What he has is a history of victimization by members of the very organization that pretends to... what was it you said?... help guides reach their full potential? Sandburg was *raped* by YOUR GDP guards and they went to prison for it. Now would you care to explain how that gives him a *sexual history?* He was the victim, you got that?"

Dexter had heard the rumors about the correction facility guards but had discounted them. Still did... but... why would Ellison be so... Oh. "Sentinel, I am sorry. I didn't mean to imply that he... that you..." She stopped and took a breath. "His past doesn't reflect on you, Sentinel Ellison."

"Lady, I don't give a damn if it does. There's nothing in his past except more courage in the face of atrocity than could be expected of anyone. Blair Sandburg is my guide and a doctoral student at this University. You will treat him with respect, as a person, a citizen, not some damn pet or slave. If I hear that you have kept him waiting, dragged him out of a lesson or lecture for any reason or just because you are having a slow day, then, lady, don't get in my way."

Dexter paled. She was relatively new to the GDP, the Rainier station was her first assignment, and this was the first time she had to deal with a royally pissed off sentinel. Well, the classes had taught her one thing... whenever possible, let the sentinel have his or her way.

"My mistake, Sentinel Ellison."

"That would be Sentinel Prime, Officer," Jim corrected; personally, he didn't give a damn for the title but the look on her face was priceless. "NOW get me the paper work that you want US to sign so that we can get on with OUR business. And you can just tear up your "rules of conduct" while you're at it. Sandburg will abide by the commonly accepted standards of behavior for a graduate student and teaching assistant at Rainier University. Period."

Blair kept his head down throughout his sentinel's "discussion" with the GDP officer, for once almost grateful for the convention that let him hide his embarrassment with a bent head. His embarrassment had changed from shamed to pleased when Jim had praised his *courage* of all things! He bit his lip to keep from cheering out loud when Jim causally tore up the conduct rules the GDP officer had made up. He absolutely could not prevent a twitch of a smile when Jim made his final majestic pronouncement. "US to sign"..."Our business"... Jim was including him, he wasn't just a guide to be pushed aside but a person. Jim wanted them to treat him properly.

Sandburg only came out of his musings when his sentinel tugged on his arm and got him seated so he could review and sign the paperwork. As he felt Officer Dexter's angry confusion, he pulled in on himself and inked his signature where Ellison indicated. When he finished he started to slide off the chair and back on his knees. A strong hand stopped him and a cool voice said, "We'll just take our copies and leave, Officer Dexter."

"If you have any questions, Sentinel..." she said it tentatively.

"Not at the moment. Let's go, Chief. I know you've still got to see your advisor."

Jim stuffed the papers in his pocket as he led his guide out of the GDP station. He was aware of Blair's hand moving across his arm nervously and his rapid, shallow breathing. The kid was still upset about what the GDP had tried to pull... "Rules of conduct"... what kind of crap is that? What a hell of a start to his first day back in his old life.

"Easy, Blair, just breathe for me, Chief. We're out of there now."

"Thanks, Jim. I mean for what... what you said... about me having... courage..." The voice was still a little too shaky for Ellison's comfort.

"Anytime, Chief, anytime. Just called it like I saw it, kid." Ellison raised a hand and gently ruffled his guide's hair. Blair gifted him with a warming smile of thanks before turning serious.

"Jim, I want to pull back from the link." It was said abruptly, as if Blair was worried about Jim's reaction.

"You know you don't have to ask, kid. You're the expert on this sentinel/guide stuff." Ellison's voice was easy.

"I want to try and keep my barriers up without help. See how long I can hold them." The determination with which Blair stated his intent faded to nervousness as he asked, "You are okay to spend the day with me, aren't you? I mean, Simon..." "Simon's exact words were "Take yourself down to the university and get the kid settled and I don't expect to see you back today, detective."

"*Simon* said that?"

Jim almost laughed at the astonishment on his young guide's face. But he kept his voice serious as he reassured, "He did. Blair, behind that rough facade of his, the guy actually likes you."

"No." Blair shook his head in disbelief.

Jim sighed softly. Blair was wrong; not only was the captain coming to care about Sandburg but a good many of the Major Crime detectives were as well. Now was not the time to argue the point but Jim was determined to undo the damage the GDP had done to Sandburg's sense of worth. He pulled his attention back to what he could do to make sure that the rest of his guide's day went better than his first stop. "So where to now?"

"I need to pick up my TA credentials and my University ID card."

"We talking proper IDs here or do I have to bend someone's ear?"

There was a growl to the words that delighted the younger man. His sentinel was prepared to go to war for him again. Blair smiled as he remembered the scared woman at the precinct's administration office who wanted to mark his police ID with the correction facility marking. She would not forget that conversation in a hurry.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Eleven o'clock found sentinel and guide entering Dr. Woodward's outer office. The grey-haired motherly secretary waved them through with a smile. She had known Blair since he was an undergraduate and had always liked him. It would be nice to have him around again.

Dr. Woodward got to his feet and came out from behind his desk to shake hands with both men. "Please take a seat, Blair, Sentinel Ellison. Did you get all the administrivia taken care of, Blair?"

Blair grinned as Woodward casually dismissed all the GDP clearances as trivial. He answered readily enough, "Yes, sir. And I had my ID picture taken over at Security too."

"Good. Good. Sarah will make up the ID as soon as we get the picture downloaded. Now then, Blair, your contract is a bit different than your last contract. We're bringing you on as a Teaching Fellow this time." Woodward waited for the reaction as that sank in.

"Doctor? Why? How? I mean, I'm a guide now, sir." Sandburg's pleased shock was clearly evident.

Woodward shrugged, "I spoke with Sentinel Ellison and he said that there shouldn't be a problem. I recognize that your primary responsibility is to your partner, Blair, but I'm sure we can cover any classes you'll have to miss." The professor did not miss the grateful look the young *professor* shot his sentinel. The older man smiled with evident pride in his guide's academic accomplishment.

When he had his new Teaching Fellow's attention Woodward continued, "Now then, you'll be responsible for teaching two sections of Anthro 101. I've got a basic syllabus available but if there are any changes you want to make, just stop by and let me know. I've taken a look at your proposed class schedule and I want to recommend that you drop the 400 course and substitute the dissertation seminar. I know you've been away from the field for a few years but I don't think you'll have any trouble getting caught up and the seminar would really help you to refine your dissertation proposal. Take a look at the class blurb and tell me what you think. We'll also go over topics that you might see on the qualifying exam... which I would like you to schedule as soon as possible, Blair. Maybe even as early as next summer."

Ellison watched as his guide quickly read over the seminar prospectus.

"You're teaching the seminar, sir?"

"Yes, I am... but don't let that put you off it, Blair." Woodward gently teased his favorite student. God, it was good to have Blair back where he belonged!

"Looks really interesting, Professor. Should I go over to..."

"Don't bother, Blair. I'll take care of it. Now then, Blair, you still get basic medical insurance with the fellowship. Unfortunately, it will not cover you for any guide related illnesses or injuries." "Don't worry about it, Chief." Jim made his first contribution to the conversation. "You're covered on my insurance. I brought a copy of the policy for your files, Doctor."

Blair looked at Ellison, clearly puzzled. He knew the GDP had basic guide coverage for him but this was the first he had heard of Jim having him put on his insurance.

Woodward read through the document and then looked at Blair. "It looks like your *friend* values you as much as we do, Blair. This is the Gold plan, top of the line coverage. This is more than adequate, Sentinel."

"I wanted Blair to have a choice as to where he was treated. GDP basic just offers GDP facility care. And, Doctor, that's Detective not sentinel," Jim corrected smoothly.

"My apologies, Detective Ellison." Dr. Woodward nodded gravely as if Jim had passed some sort of test. The secretary knocked on the door and said, "Excuse me, Doctor, but you wanted this right away." She handed a small package to Woodward. "Thank you, Sarah." After the woman had left, with a quick wink at Blair that had the young guide blushing, Woodward went on.

"Now, Blair, I have spoken to the faculty committee and they are more than willing to accept your dissertation topic on Dark Sentinels. You have the date when they need the first draft proposal in your orientation package, right?"

"Yes, sir. It arrived last Friday." Blair nodded, his eyes snapping with excitement. It was really happening! He was going to get his doctorate!

"If you have any problems with anything, you come back to me. I will be your major advisor until you are ready to put together a dissertation committee."

"Thank you, Sir." Blair took a steadying breath.

"Now then, one last thing. Your ID card." Woodward handed the small package that had just been delivered over to Sandburg. The professor looked Jim straight in the eye as he said, "I had all that guide rubbish taken off. While you are at Rainier, you are a TA and Grad Student. That's the only status we are concerned with."

Jim's grin surprised Woodward. "I wouldn't have it any other way, Doctor."

"Your name and number are the emergency contact, Detective."

Blair held the ID card in his hand. When Doctor Woodward had challenged Jim on the ID information, he had waited for his sentinel to explode. He understood Jim not wanting his "property" marked as correctional facility fodder but he did expect him to want the standard Guide ID. But Jim just sat there grinning like the Cheshire cat. He turned the badge over. It was like his old one. HIS photograph, HIS name were on it not Ellison's. The small piece of plastic had a huge significance for the young empath, it said he was a person in his own right and not a piece of property. He felt Jim's hand on his shoulder give a firm squeeze. Blair reached up and patted it. For the first time since his nightmare started when he woke up as Alex's possession, he could actually believe that he was getting his own life back. It was all the little things that Jim had done; allowing him to pick out things for his room; choose his own food. Even though he hadn't been observing the restrictions, it wasn't as if Alex or the GDP cared, Jim had respected the tradition.

Just that morning Jim had pulled him down onto the sofa next to him. The sentinel had then proceeded to pull out his wallet and take out a hundred dollar bill. Jim had held it out to him and Blair hadn't known what to do, what to say. Ellison had grinned at him and closed his hand around the bill. "Keep that in your wallet, kid, for emergencies." Blair remembered babbling something, he thought it was thanks and pulled out the shabby canvas folder that held his GDP identification. Ellison had frowned but wouldn't say why... just went on to explain that Blair had been added to Ellison's household accounts at all the stores so he could get what he needed when he needed it. He had then given him another fifty dollars in small bills, "to tide him over until he got paid." The final surprise had been an ATM cash card. Ellison had explained that his brother had opened an account for Blair under Jim's name into which his University stipend would be paid. The card would give Blair access to his money when he wanted it without having to go through Jim.

Blair felt tears threaten again, just as they had earlier that morning when he had been given control of his wages, his own money. Jim had suddenly found his arms full of guide; Blair had wrapped himself around his sentinel and hung on for dear life. Even now, Blair could feel the gentleness with which Jim had held him until the storm of emotion had passed. As Blair said his farewells to Doctor Woodward and watched Jim and his advisor speak to one another, he realized that the sentinel he had dreaded was giving his life back to him. And more ... Blair hadn't felt so loved or cherished since he had been small child in Naomi's arms.

Ellison grinned as his guide bounced down the stairs by his side. Woodward had apologized for not being able to give Blair a regular office. He had explained that all the single offices had been assigned before he knew that Sandburg would be coming back. The professor knew enough about empaths to understand that Blair would find it uncomfortable sharing a space with another person for hours at a time. Woodward's eyes had twinkled when he commented, "It's not a regular office, Blair, but it *is* interesting." He had passed over a key and Sandburg had grinned. Even after two years he recognized *that* key; he had spent many a happy hour in the room it opened.

When they got to the door, Blair stopped. His name had been printed out on cardboard that had then been laminated. He traced the name on the plaque with one shaking finger. "Mine." It was breathed out.

"Yours, Chief." Ellison confirmed. The sentinel smiled as he saw the look of pleasure and pride on the younger man's face. He was giving Blair his academic life back but it wasn't enough. Ellison made a silent vow that one day, soon, Blair would never have to kneel to another person because he was an empath, a guide. The time would come when his guide would have nothing to fear from obnoxious people wearing a GDP uniform. He didn't know how he knew that but he could feel the change coming just like he could scent rain in the air before it fell.

Blair pushed open the door and Jim grinned. The "office" was nothing more than a glorified artifact storage lockup but his young anthropological loftmate was delighted with the accommodations. He immediately took Jim on a tour, greeting various relics and unidentifiable "somethings" like long lost friends. It occurred to Jim that in a sense they were. Keen blue eyes studied the space, noting where there was room for a computer set-up and an audio system. Maybe even a microwave and electric teakettle. A new desk chair was added to the sentinel's mental list but he nodded his appreciation for whoever had thought to shove the old but comfortable looking sofa in one corner. With just a little effort, this would be a cozy, safe place for a young guide spending long hours apart from his sentinel. Ellison was determined to make that effort.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the police are doing a stop and search, it's Blair that gets stopped.

Freshmen students were still trying to master the layout of the campus on the golden late summer day when Blair left the Student Union with a group of fellow grad students. Blair held the door for the others and took the opportunity to breathe deeply and just enjoy the simple pleasure of being back where he belonged, back in the academic world. As the last student passed him, he let the door swing shut and was back in the middle of the animated discussion. He was talking a mile a minute as he argued a point with the other post-grad students around him. He had them on the ropes, was sure that it was just a matter of time before they conceded the argument, when a car suddenly turned in front of them on the campus road. Another car pulled in behind them as they stopped in confusion. Or at least the others were confused. Blair went right to frightened as he recognized Martin Evans from Vice get out of the first car.

There was no mistaking the older man. As head of the Mayor's Anti-drug Task Force, he was often in the news. In his late forties, Evans was a bulldog of a man who frequently skirted civil rights in his crusade against what he referred to as "the scum of the earth." Evans had already made clear his feelings on the subject of empaths. As cold eyes settled on him, Blair thought, Oh God, this can't be good...

Evans looked over the students with disgust seeing a lot of long-haired neo-hippies who thought their ivory towers should exempt them from the normal rules of behavior. His face hardened as he recognised one student in particular. He reached out and snagged Ellison's guide by the front of his jacket. He threw the smaller man against the police vehicle, dragging him up so that only his toes touched the ground. "Mister Sandburg, shouldn't you be with your sentinel? Oh, I forgot... Ellison misguidedly allowed you to resume your studies here. Is this the kind of company you keep away from his eyes? Why aren't I surprised? Degenerate scum always sinks to the bottom."

"Let me go, man. We weren't doing anything." Blair struggled to keep his barriers up as Evan's hatred washed over him. Evans didn't deserve an explanation but Blair didn't want to cause trouble and tried to defuse the situation.

"Look, we're all Teaching Assistants here and..."

Instead of letting him go, Evans tightened his grip and hauled him up higher. Blair stopped trying to explain and concentrated on breathing. Every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to try and pull free of the cop's punishing hold. He forced the need away. That was what Evans wanted him to do, Blair could see it in his face. "Resisting arrest" would give Evans the excuse he needed to take him in. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the other three policemen checking out the ID cards of his fellow students. He heard them protest Evan's treatment of him but they were quickly ordered away. Freddie shouted something about calling the Dean as they hurried off toward Hargrove Hall. Just hold it together, Blair. They'll get help, call Jim. Just hold it together. One of the uniforms came up and addressed Evans, it took a moment for his words to penetrate Blair's growing panic.

Officer Peterson did not like students. He recognized that bias in himself and tried to keep it out of the way he did his job. It wasn't easy. He worked with Evans and the Task Force leader encouraged his men to push the boundaries to get results. Generally, Peterson liked the freedom that gave him to roust those who needed it. But he remembered seeing the student Evans was manhandling around the police station. For a moment he had thought he was a snitch before the face had snapped into place. "Detective, I recognize him. That's Sandburg, he's Ellison's." He said it as if he was identifying a piece of property. Peterson stepped back at the look on Evan's face, it was clear the older man didn't want to give up his prey that easily.

"Just going to frisk him for drugs, Peterson. Never know what we might find."

Peterson looked from Evan's sneering face to Sandburg's carefully blank one. The uniformed officer had heard the rumors of what this kid had survived... and had seen the growing respect in which the Major Crime detectives held "their" young observer. The last thing he wanted was to make enemies of the elite unit of detectives. "He's clean, Detective." He tried to warn Evans off from what he feared the man intended.

"What?" Evans sounded surprised at the interruption.

"You think the kid would even try a bit of wacky tobacco while living in Ellison's home? The guy would smell it half a mile away. Right, Sandburg?"

"Right," Blair managed to croak.

Evan's tightened his hold on Sandburg's shirt and gave him a hard shake. "Right, what?"

"Sir." Blair gasped as the fists knotted in the shirt bunched at his throat.

"That's better. You need to learn to show your respect to your betters, GUIDE," he spat the title out as an insult. Evans threw the smaller man away from him, laughing as Blair staggered before finding his balance. "Get the hell out of here, Sandburg, before I run you in for polluting the atmosphere." He laughed at his own witticism while climbing back into his vehicle.

Blair was almost hyperventilating, struggling to control his breathing when the uniformed cop came over to him. He didn't know what to expect but it wasn't the calming "Easy kid, just try and breathe" that he got. He managed to gasp out a "Thanks, sir." as the cop led him toward a bench.

"Anytime, Sandburg. I owed Ellison one." The cop started to turn away, then he turned back and said, almost grudgingly, "You're good for him, kid." Blair stared after him in surprise until he drove away. Only then did Blair sink down on the bench and allow himself to think about what had almost happened. That had been too close. He knew Martin Evans didn't like him but would he have set him up? He didn't want to even think about that because if he had been arrested, for any reason or for no reason, the GDP would have taken him into custody until the trial and ...he shuddered as all the old fears surfaced again. A shadow fell over him and he looked up to find himself surrounded by six young men.

They were all much bigger than he was; all of them had the look of powerfully built jocks. Still rattled by his encounter with Evans, fear began to flare in his mind. What do they want??? Then, through the rising panic, he recognised them from his lecture. He was still learning the names of all his students but these clicked into place easily. They were members of Rainier's Soccer team, winners of the University Challenge Cup for the past two years. He had been more than a little worried when their coach had told him point blank that the soccer team was joining his Anthropology 101 class en masse. The previous semester, six of the players had barely avoided academic probation that would have benched them so the rest of their team mates had concocted the idea of taking the same classes to "encourage" them. It was just Blair's luck that Anthro 101 fulfilled the general education requirement expected of all students each year and so he got the entire team. He had expected there to be problems with them and it looked like he was right.

Instinctively, he pulled in on himself, preparing himself to handle whatever they chose to dish out. Despite what he had led his sentinel to believe, he had known that the initial ease of his return to Rainier could not last for long. And if the unsigned note he had received in his faculty mailbox was right, the fact that he was a guide was in the process of being transmitted around the whole campus. Jocks typically did not have much time for academics in any event. That he was a guide as well would just make it worse. He waited for their spokesman to start the ball rolling, gripping his backpack to remind himself of what was at stake.

Alan Fraser looked down at the smaller man and frowned when he saw the way his teacher gripped a battered backpack. Mr. Sandburg looked like he was expecting a blow. Then before he could reassure the professor, narrow shoulders straightened and a calm, authoritative voice challenged, "Can I help you, MISTER Fraser?"

Alan smiled. That was just what he expected from Mister Sandburg. After only a couple of lectures, it was already apparent that the young Teaching Fellow was *good people* as well as an excellent teacher. All the crap about him being a guide was not fair. The students in his section of Anthro 101 class had talked about the fact that Sandburg was a guide at length. A small clique had tried to talk all of them into boycotting the class until they got a teacher who wasn't a guide. Steadier heads had overruled them and Alan took some satisfaction in his role in the decision. He had asked two questions. Was Sandburg a good teacher? And if he was, wasn't his personal life his own business? He had carried the day but he also realized that there was still animosity present. After Mr. Sandburg had made time to give extra instruction to their academically challenged buddies, he had won the respect and loyalty of the whole team. When Freddie had told them what was happening on the Commons, they had sought out their guide professor. They had quickened their steps when they had seen Sandburg in the grip of the police officer but the crisis was over before they got there.

"You all right, Prof?" The title had come out without conscious thought.

"Yeah, thanks. What can I do for you all?" Intelligent blue eyes were still wary but there was nothing in his voice but a willingness to help.

"Nothing, just checking that you're all right. The damn cops are all over the campus today. The way they carry on, you'd think that students were public enemy number one. We heard that they stopped you and a bunch of grad students. Watch yourself with them, Prof. Just because you teach doesn't mean they won't hassle you." Everything else he wanted to say remained unsaid; whichever way he mentally phrased it sounded condescending. And he could not condescend to this man. It seemed as if he didn't need to worry... the deep blue eyes conveyed gratitude for what he had said, and understanding of what he hadn't. Alan felt a swell of protectiveness for HIS teacher.

"See you around, Prof," he said casually. Still a little overwhelmed by the moment he added seriously, "And watch your back, okay?"

Blair laughed. "I've got a sentinel for that job, Alan. I'll see you in class and don't forget to read chapter five."

A student watching from his position near the fountain frowned. A guide at his university? And one who not only admitted to having a sentinel but implying that he gave that sentinel a "job?" That was going to have to change and change fast. He tugged out a cell phone. "Lieutenant Dexter. I want to report a guide on campus without his sentinel. I just watched him...."

A few minutes later he clicked the phone shut, sat back and waited for the fun to start. He waited for the GDP to descend, and waited, and waited... until Sandburg got up from the bench and disappeared into Hargrove Hall.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Blair scanned the faces of his students and smiled. They were a pretty mixed bunch but he was beginning to get a sense of who they were as a class and as individuals. A bell rang in the distance and Blair shut his notebook signaling that the lecture was over. "All right, everybody, that's it for today. Don't forget to read Chapters six and seven on ritual Sacrifice. And... Philip, the assignment is theoretical not practical. No sacrificial maidens on the soccer field, please." There was a ripple of laughter as the big soccer player grinned and saluted the lecturer before pleading, "But we have a game this Friday, Professor." Blair returned his grin and said, "Burn incense, Philip, not virgins." More laughter ended the class on a high note. "Don't forget to drop off your reports before you leave." It had been a good session and Blair was smiling as he started to pack up his work.

The students filed past him, dropping their reports on the desk. A small group of students threw a couple of comments in his direction about guides who thought they were so smart. He studiously ignored them although he would have had to be deaf not to hear them. One of them, Robin Newman, a small petite girl with dark blond hair, tugged on the arm of her boyfriend, Ian Tipp and pulled him over to Blair. "Sorry Mark was not here today." False respect oozed through the words. "He's got that stomach bug that's going around."

"Make sure he gets the reading assignment, Miss Newman. He wouldn't want to get behind."

"Sure thing, Guide Sandburg." She smirked as she said the title.

"At Rainier, that's *Mister* Sandburg." Blair kept his voice calm as he corrected her.

"Your sentinel know that?" Ian Tipp tried to sound shocked but only sounded smug. "He knows." Blair met their gazes levelly. Ian Tipp held his essay out and then let it go so that it hit the floor. A few more students let their essays fall on the floor to join Tipp's. Blair stood very still, fighting down anger as the "good session" turned ugly. Tipp picked up on that anger and tried to turn it into fear.

He towered over Blair, crowding into his personal space. "Why don't you get down on your knees and pick them up, *Guide*? You've had a lot of practice down there." He stared down at the smaller man and waited to see fear in the deep blue eyes. What he saw instead frightened him and he laughed harshly as he said, "Come on gang. Let's get out of here."

Blair's hand tightened on the essays in his hand. "Bastards," he exhaled it slowly under his breath. He looked down at the essays on the floor. His remaining students were looking at him as if he were an exhibit in a freak show. The same students he had just held entranced with his tales of other cultures. He could feel a blush coloring his face. He had not expected it to be easy... but he had also not expected such blatant disrespect in his own lecture hall. His head came up and he met their eyes steadily, giving away nothing of his feelings. I will not let them get to me. "I hope the rest of you have better coordination than your classmates and can manage to get your papers on the desk instead of on the floor." There was a sigh and a whisper of comment from the seats as he brushed aside the incident as of no consequence.

Alan Fraser came down the steps backed by his team. The big athletes bent down and scooped up the dropped papers, making quite clear where their loyalties lay. If the action hadn't been clear enough, Fraser's words left no doubt. "Here you go, Prof. Hey, just forget about Tipp. He's as full of crap as he is clumsy. See you next class. Come on, boys. Coach'll skin us if we're late."

One of the team, Jerry Carver hung back a minute. "Mister Sandburg?" he questioned awkwardly.

"Jerry." Blair was patient. Jerry tried hard but he was definitely a better soccer player than he was a scholar. The student was smaller than his teammates, on the slender side and with long, dark hair. His brown eyes were pleading with Blair for understanding as he fingered his report, "I'm not really sure that I understood the assignment, sir."

"Jerry, you should have come and seen me about it before it was due. That's what office hours are for. And if you can't make it then, I can always come at a better time for you."

"Well... I wanted to try and do it myself. You make it sound so easy and I thought that maybe..."

"Okay, Jerry. I'll take a look at it and then we can talk it through. I can't let you do it again; it wouldn't be fair to the other students but maybe I can put you right for the next one. And don't worry about the grade, Jerry, you've got lots of time to bring it up. I'll help. Okay?"

"Thanks, Professor." Jerry smiled, relieved and turned to go. He froze in place as he saw a man come into the lecture hall. The stranger screamed "cop" from his short hair to the aura of disciplined control he exuded. Jerry glanced askance at the prof. "You okay, man, or should I hang around until you find out what the cop wants?" Carver was genuinely concerned. He liked Sandburg. The professor never made him feel stupid or slow like some of the other faculty did, and he had heard about the incident near the student union building. This guy looked like the worse type of cop... all "my way or the highway."

"I'm fine, Jerry. Go on and don't keep the Coach waiting."

Jerry didn't look too sure about that but one look from the cop and he melted into the background. He relaxed just a bit as the prof greeted the man by name.

"Hey, Jim. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Chief, just thought I would check in to see that everything is okay in academia."

"Jim, this is your guide you're speaking to... now, why are you here?"

Jerry Carver smiled as the big cop... sentinel... looked like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. Yeah, the prof would be okay with Kojak here. Carver slipped out. If he hurried he might get to practice before the coach really did go ballistic.

"Grapevine says that Martin Evans from Vice is on a stop and search round here. I just wanted to make sure you were all right, Chief."

Jim studied his guide with concern as the kid blushed. Detective Martin Evans had several major axes he liked to grind and Blair was one of his favorites. The kid had never done anything to him except draw breath but Evans hated guides and sentinels equally. The Vice cop *knew* his career had been blighted by the sensory advantages sentinels possessed. Jim remembered their run in when he had worked in Vice. Martin had soon backed down from the ex-covert ops Ranger but it worried Jim that Blair would be an easy target for him. He suspected that something had already happened, the increase in Blair's heart rate and respiration at Evan's name said as much. As if to confirm his worries, Blair rested a hand on Jim's arm and the sentinel felt the tug as his guide opened their connection. The guide's emotions were in turmoil but Jim sent thoughts of support his way and it seemed to steady Blair. Finally, Blair ended the connection and pulled away.

Blair smiled as the sentinel reached to gently ruffle his hair, substituting physical contact for emotional linkage. Jim hadn't been the most tactile person to start with, only rarely touching or hugging friends. But because of the sentinel/guide link, Jim was always reaching out to him, needing the contact to reassure him that everything was okay with is guide. As the weeks passed, Blair began to realize that it wasn't just a programmed sentinel response but a Jim Ellison action... the big cop actually needed to know, as a friend, that his friend was okay.

Blair smiled. It had taken a while, he had been through so much that trust no longer came easily to him but he now really believed that the big sentinel... correction... that Jim Ellison was his friend. It still surprised him sometimes that his sentinel would have taken that route and not just treated him as an intelligent guide dog to be used when needed. There were times when Blair could even imagine that Jim behaved like the older brother he had longed for as a kid. Sometimes when Jim was playful, he reminded him of a large cat trying to wrestle with a kitten, not quite sure how to avoid overpowering the smaller cat. Jim was always so careful that he didn't clip him too hard when he mock slapped him on the side of his head or grabbed the back of his neck.

The in-built need for a sentinel to make physical contact with his guide and the guide with his sentinel was something that people found hard to understand at first. Modern Western society saw most non-familial touching as carnal in nature, a fact that the anthropologist in Blair thought was a pity. Throughout history, even before there was history, humans had needed touch for emotional health, a need different from the desire for sexual congress . Blair had learned the hard way that most people misinterpreted the contact between a bonded pair and tried to not make them uneasy. He had seen, and felt, Simon's and Carolyn's first reactions to Jim's touching him and didn't want to go through that again. He thought that the captain, at least, now knew better but Blair was still trying not to upset anyone. A task that was made harder by Jim's blithe disregard of others' opinions. He caught Jim studying him quizzically. With chagrin, he realized that he had missed a question. Jim repeated it.

"Blair, what's wrong, kid?" There was no mistaking the sentinel's concern.

The guide looked at his sentinel and tried to find a way to phrase what he had to say without Jim flying off the handle.

"Martin Evans harassed some students this morning. I was one of them."

"Did he hurt you?" Jim growled.

"No. Pushed me up against a car, that's all. One of the uniforms, Peterson, helped me out. He told Evans that there was no way I'd do drugs around you. Evans let me go with a warning." Blair tried to downplay the whole incident but something told him that Jim wasn't buying it.

"That bastard! If he thinks..." Jim started for the door. . "JIM." Blair caught his jacket, stopping him. "I'm all right. He didn't hurt me. He just wanted to scare me, that's all."

Jim hesitated, then pulled his guide over to him. He began to run his hands over Blair's body, checking his back, shoulders and head for any damage or bruising. Only when he was satisfied that Blair wasn't hiding any injury, did he let go of him. Jim reluctantly acknowledged that part of his anger was directed at himself. Only a few short months ago, he would have been throwing Blair up against a wall. One look at his guide's long hair, weird clothes and hyper behavior and he too would have pegged him as a prime suspect for a drug bust. That scared him.

"Come on, kid, I'll buy you lunch. There's a Wonderburger over that way." He waited for his guide's typical response and wasn't disappointed. Blair set aside the morning's upset in favor of a long-standing concern... his sentinel's health.

"Jim! The so-called food at that place..."

Ellison tuned his guide out as he resigned himself to yet another lecture on his eating habits. He waited until Blair paused to interject a comment.

"Yes, Mother. I understand..."

"Cut it out, man. I'm not your mother, I'm your guide," was the indignant reply. Jim hid a smile as he felt Blair punch him on the arm.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Ranier GDP target Blair, Jim and Commander Slater have to work together to save him.

Lunch had been relaxing, an oasis of calm that they had both needed. Blair had to do some fast-talking to convince his sentinel that he could go back to the station while his guide stayed at the University; Ellison was in serious hover mode. But finally he had won out and he had waved as Ellison had dropped him off at Hargrove hall and driven away. He did a quick check on his empathic barriers before he went back to his office. They were still high and he grinned. He was doing well; before the bonding he would not have had any problems but his bonding to Jim had stripped him of some of his control. He still worried sometimes that his barriers would give out on him, leaving him susceptible to a massive overload on all the emotions of the hundreds of people around him. His grin changed to a smile as he thought that Jim worried even more about that than he did... if his sentinel had his way, he would...

"Blair Sandburg!"

Blair halted in his tracks and turned his head trying to find the shouter. The flight instinct was trying to kick in but he held his ground, his eyes searching among the people around him. This was his campus and he had every right to be here.

The young woman coming towards him was older than him. She was also taller by at least five inches, even wearing the flats that were in keeping with the rest of her clothing, sensible rather than student chic. She moved like an athlete and had a no-nonsense air. A battered old leather handbag hung over her shoulder and she cradled a rather astonishing number of file folders in her arms. She seemed comfortable with who she was, a rare thing in this world. While Blair was still trying to remember if he had ever seen her before she spoke.

"Hi, I'm Carol Reeves, another of the long suffering TA's at Rainier. Welcome to the club." She juggled files until she could extend her hand to him. A mental check of his barriers and he returned her offered handshake. He thinned his barriers slightly and sensed the mellow feeling of her emotions. "Hi, Carol. You know who I am already." Blair tried a smile on her and she grinned back at him.

"Oh, yeah... you're the "cute new guy" according to the girls in my class." Carol's grin widened as the younger man blushed. "You're doing your PhD in Anthro, aren't you?" She didn't wait for an answer before going on, "What's your topic?"

"Dark Sentinels."

She shook her head, impressed. "The Powers That Be accepted that? William will be put out. He tried to get that topic accepted for his dissertation and got turned down, not enough information was available. So how come they let you do it, Blair, friends in high places?" Her tone was joking but there was a real interest in those intelligent hazel eyes.

"I found a Dark Sentinel and he's willing to..."

"Be your lab rat. Cool."

Blair turned quickly, his eyes searching for the blue and white truck. He breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God Jim hadn't heard that crack. He had convinced his sentinel to reluctantly agree to the testing. Blair guessed it was more to humor him than out of any real interest in what made Dark Sentinels tick; it worked and that was enough for Ellison. But anything like calling him a lab rat would have sent the older man ballistic.

Blair held the door open for Carol and they made their way to their offices, chatting about inconsequentials. Reeves' office turned out to be four doors down from his own and was, if anything, even smaller than his. As she dumped her files on a desk that was piled even higher than his own, he suggested diffidently, "I've got some tea in my office. There's only powdered milk but..."

"Thanks, Blair. That would be a treat. Hang on, I've got some brownies here somewhere." She rummaged in a desk drawer and brought out a sealed Tupperware container. "I'm 28 years old and Mom still sends me care packages." Carol liked the smile that lit up the younger man's face. She had been curious about him and had looked up some of the articles he had published before disappearing from Rainier two years before. His work showed he was highly intelligent and she knew that Doctor Woodward thought highly enough of him to offer him a teaching fellowship. In addition, he was, she sought for just the right word, charming. An odd mixture of naivet‚ and wisdom, of energy and calm and there was no missing the compassion that shone in his beautiful blue eyes. There were shadows there too, and she found herself angry with whoever and whatever put them there. He was looking at her curiously and she shook off her thoughts and said gaily, "Let's go eat. I'm starved and I've got tutorials this afternoon."

Blair escorted her down the hall with a teasing air of old-fashioned courtliness. She fell into his play easily and Blair knew that he had met a kindred spirit. He got his key out and then realized that the door was ajar. He pushed it open and his heart went cold. Standing in his cluttered office were a GDP officer and guard. The smaller of the two men, the officer, ordered, "Come in, Guide."

Blair glanced at Carol. He could feel the heat coming up in his face as he saw the look on her face. Her mouth dropped open as she backed out of the room, the door closing behind her. There goes one friendship... Suddenly he was jerked back from his sorrowful musings by the hated command. "Show your respect, Guide." The order was delivered in a cold tone meant to remind him of his place. Blair folded gracefully down onto his knees, his hands behind his back crossed at his wrist, head down looking at the worn carpet. I can do this... it's not the same...

"Not good enough, Guide. You seem to think that just because your sentinel has been magnanimous enough to allow you to continue your studies that you can ignore your training." Blair saw black shoes come into view of his restricted vision. He shuddered as he felt the trail of a leash across his shoulders. His breath began to come quickly. They would not leash him, not here at the university, please God, not that.

Another order was barked into his ear. "Belly, Guide." Blair went flat in an instant. His hands broke his fall then quickly went to the center of his back again.

"Knees and head, Guide." Blair pulled his knees up under him, his forehead pushed into the carpeting and his hips raised in the most feared of the punishment positions. He hadn't done anything! Why were they... He could hear them circling him.

"Good little guide isn't he, Jack?"

"Wilson did a good job with this one."

"Yeah, sometimes you gotta just let them know where they stand in the scheme of things... or lie - as the case may be." A ribald laugh answered that sally.

Wilson! Blair felt nausea crash through him. That's over. Jim fixed it. But his sentinel wasn't here and he could not help flinching as the lash trailed down his back... and lower. A heavy hand fell on his hip and Blair fled into his mind as memories attacked him... Awareness faded.

The door to the office slammed open and the GDP officer started to order the person out. He was ignored and a furious Dr. Woodward stormed into the small room, slamming the door behind him. "What the hell is going on here?" he demanded.

"GDP business." The GDP officer said pompously. "Correction of a guide. He....."

"All he did was enter his office." The professor stated accusingly. "Miss Reeves told me all about it. Blair, get to your feet." He said it more gruffly that he meant. His anger was certainly not meant for his student. Woodward grew concerned as Blair made no effort to move. The young face, what he could see of it, was frozen into a mask of... terror? Fear? Hopelessness? Woodward got the impression that the empath's mind was somewhere else. Remembering what he had heard, what had been implied, before he opened the door, it was no wonder that Blair seemed to have checked out of the present.

"I'm reporting your actions to Lieutenant Harris. Is the harassment of members of my staff something you do on a regular basis now?"

"He's a guide, Doctor. Since his sentinel isn't here, we're responsible..." The guard's effort to smooth over the incident failed noticeably.

"Rubbish. He's a member of my staff now, with his sentinel's full consent. I expect him to be treated that way. NOW GET OUT before I call campus security and have you removed." He stared them down until their eyes dropped and they conceded the battle of wills.

Doctor Woodward waited until the two men left and Carol had come into the office before he bent over his new TA. Woodward took a calming breath, reminding himself that his anger could hurt Blair. The young man still hadn't moved. "Blair?" he questioned softly.

No answer. Blank staring eyes that held none of the vital intelligence and voracious curiosity Woodward was accustomed to seeing in them. God, What did those bastards do?

"Carol, stay with him." He added quickly, "But don't touch him. I think we'd better get his sentinel here fast."

Reeves knelt down next to her fellow TA. She tried to talk to him but she couldn't break through whatever it was that paralyzed his mind. She glanced up. Doctor Woodward was on the telephone. He was speaking quickly, answering questions succinctly, and it was obvious that the person asking them was not happy. He concluded the conversation with, "Get here as quick as you can. I'll meet you downstairs." The professor hung up the phone and paused to gather his resources before turning to Reeves.

"That was Blair's sentinel, Carol. I'm going to wait for him downstairs. Stay with Blair. Don't let anyone in for any reason. And for God's sake, try to stay calm. He's an empath."

Carol nodded her understanding, her mind racing. If Blair Sandburg was a guide, then the Dark Sentinel he was studying must be his. Blair was a guide... She paused on that thought, did a little soul-searching and found that she didn't give a damn. He was a fellow scholar and a gentle man and that's all that mattered.

Carol talked soothing nonsense to the insensible young man huddled on the floor. He still hadn't come out of it when the door opened again and another man came in. She took one look at the fury on his face and immediately tried to block him away from Blair. He was big and angry and all his attention was on her fellow student...

"Keep away from him, Dr. Woodward will...." She put herself between the stranger and the hurting guide.

"He's my guide. Get away from him." There was real menace in the words that were growled at her. She backed away.

My stars! This was Blair's sentinel. This rude, fierce... behemoth... Carol's angry thoughts shattered as the sentinel spoke.

"Chief." There was a wealth of emotion in that one word, sorrow and anger and even... compassion. Carol watched in surprise as the big man knelt down and placed a gentle hand on the back of his guide's neck.

"Chief? Blair? Come on, kid. It's okay, now." Jim tightened his grip and felt the flinch. He doesn't know it's me! What the hell?

"Onto your belly, Guide." Ellison's heart broke as his guide complied and he knew where the younger man's mind was. Blair was back in the correction cell, and would...could... only respond to the guide commands that had been hammered into him there with fear and pain. . "Good, Blair, that's good." Ellison comforted. He kept one hand resting on his guide's neck and with his other slowly drew circles on Blair's back. He felt the tight muscles begin to relax under his hands, as on some basic level Sandburg recognized his sentinel's touch. Jim pushed against their linkage. It was shut against him, not a good sign. Okay I can do this. Jim pushed against the shield the kid had on the pathway and heard a moan of pain. Blair wouldn't... or couldn't... let him in. Damn, this was serious now. Slowly, he pulled back from the linkage. He tugged out his cell phone and began to dial. This was beyond serious, into terrifying. Blair had shut down too much and was nearly catatonic. Jim could feel him slipping away from him. He needed real help as quickly as possible from someone he could trust. "Commander Slater." The name was barked out. A brief silence was followed by. "I don't care who he's with. You tell him that Sentinel Prime Ellison is on the phone and you get me him NOW." A fascinated Reeves got an inkling of the influence that a Sentinel Prime wielded in some circles as his order was carried out. Barely a minute later, Ellison was snarling into the phone, "Slater, your men at Rainier have been harassing my guide. They've driven him into a catatonic state and I can't bring him out or get him to link." Ellison kept up his soothing touch on the Guide's back as he listened closely then answered a question. "His vital signs are still strong." More silence. "Someone will be waiting for you at Hargrove Hall, Commander. Thank you." Those last two words were ground out as if Ellison was eating glass. He closed the connection and pocketed the phone. "Commander Slater is on his way here. Could someone wait for him?"

"Certainly," Woodward said quietly, "We'll leave you alone with Blair, Detective. Carol, could you watch for this Commander Slater downstairs and bring him here?"

"Certainly, sir. Who the hell do they think they are? Blair doesn't deserve any of this..."

Ellison looked up from his guide. The icy blue eyes were warm as they took in Carol's angry face. "Miss... Carol... Sandburg is going to be mortally ashamed that you witnessed this."

"Well, he has nothing to be ashamed of... it's those jackbooted thugs who should be ashamed of themselves. Don't worry, Detective..."

"Jim, please." Oh my, he's an altogether different man when he smiles...

"Jim, I'll make sure that Blair knows that. And no one will hear about any of this from me."

"Thank you, Carol." His attention had already drifted back to his young guide before he even finished her name. He didn't look up as Woodward and Reeves left the office, carefully closing the door behind them.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Slater must have broken all the traffic laws on his trip to Hargrove. Sooner than Jim would have thought possible the commander was knocking softly at the door and announcing himself. "Sentinel Ellison, it's Slater."

Ellison's curt, "Come in" softened into a "Thank you for coming" as Ellison noted that Slater wore an ordinary coat over his uniform. Sandburg would not have wanted Slater parading around in GDP uniform in his office hallway. The commander carried a black bag over one shoulder.

"Sentinel Ellison I ...." Ellison could read the distress in the GDP officer's voice.

"That can wait. Blair, he's...." Ellison didn't have to say any more. The sentinel had managed to ease his guide onto his back. But his arms and legs were still frozen in the kneeling position he had been in when his mind fled the expected horrors. The wide blue eyes set in an ashen young face were open and staring at nothing.

"Hell!" The epithet escaped Slater's lips before he could stop it.

"Yeah..." Ellison's agreement was heartfelt.

"I need you to roll up his sleeve for me."

Slater knelt down on the floor and opened his bag. He pulled out a disposable syringe and laid it on top of the bag and then removed a small bottle.

"You do know what you're doing, Slater?"

"I'm a GDP trained paramedic, Sentinel and Guide medicine. It looks to me as if Blair is in a fugue state. We have to give him the medical equivalent of a kick-start to get him back. He won't, or rather, can't link with you because his pathways are so overloaded nothing can get through."

Slater looked at Jim. "His vital signs?"

"Strong."

"Good. This isn't an easy way to bring him out of this... it's the chemical equivalent of electroshock therapy but if we want to keep this incident out of his records it's our only option. Now, I need you to lean over his body so that when he comes around... and he will come around violently... you are there for him and he can connect."

Jim watched the needle go in. It seemed as if the needle had scarcely left the flesh when Blair's whole body spasmed. The tight held arms and legs flailed wildly and he screamed, struggling against Jim's strong arms. Ellison pushed against the link and this time Blair let him in. With voice and the connection, the sentinel steadied his guide until the slim body lay still. Deep blue eyes opened and closed. Then opened again to fasten on Jim's face as a shaky voice pleaded, "J...Jm?"

"Here, Blair. It's all right, kid, I've got you."

"Th...they...ey were... h... h... here..."

"I know, Blair, but they're gone now and they won't come back. Will they?" The tone of voice was deceptively mild but one look into the laser blue eyes and Slater quickly confirmed, "No, Sentinel, I will make sure of that."

Jim nodded acceptance of the implied promise before his attention turned back to his guide. "Welcome back, Chief. How are your barriers?" God knows they'd been high enough to keep him out but who knew what that stuff Slater gave him could do?

"Jim." Sandburg pushed against his sentinel's hold. Jim eased back slowly and then caught Blair as he rolled over and tried to kneel.

"I'm sorry they called you, Jim. It won't happen again." Blair was staring at the floor, not wanting to see the disgust in Jim's face. He heard his sentinel sigh, and then a hand carefully tilted his head back up until he had no choice but to meet the older man's eyes.

"I will come as often as you need me, Blair, this is not a one time deal. Now, how are your barriers?"

"They're still up." Sorta, kinda, enough.

"Right." Jim's semi-sarcastic tone indicated that he didn't believe him. Then he felt the sentinel push against the link, testing. Blair held firm. Jim nodded. "Okay, Chief, you win. They're up. And I'd like to know how you managed that trick." But Ellison didn't push for an answer, he doubted that Blair had one. The kid's eyes were still somewhat dazed as they roved around the small office, never settling on any one object. Ellison got up and reached a hand down to pull the smaller man effortlessly to his feet. One hand hooked under the young guide's elbow to stop him trying to kneel to Slater as he suddenly realised who and what he was. Slater ignored both the aborted movement and Ellison's challenging stare.

"Sentinel, your guide will be on an adrenaline rush for the next few hours. Nothing serious," he added quickly, "but he's going to be hyperactive for a while." Slater paused as he saw Ellison smile wryly. "Sentinel?"

"I was just thinking "what's new?" He gave his guide's long hair a gentle tug. "Sandburg's like the Energizer Bunny on speed already."

Still a little dazed, Blair felt himself tucked against his sentinel's side by a strong arm. He slowly became more aware of his surroundings and his eyes found Carol. He blushed as he realized that she must have witnessed his humiliation and waited for the disgust to blossom in the hazel eyes. Instead, she just smiled at him as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. "That tea still on offer?" she asked.

"Sure, Carol." Blair stepped out of Jim's comforting hold and went over to the jug of water he kept for tea. As he filled the kettle, Ellison saw Slater out of the office. "Thanks, Commander. That's one I owe you."

"We're not all monsters, Sentinel Prime Ellison."

Jim watched the man walk away. He tilted his head to one side and listened in on the conversation in the office behind him. They were chatting about the cost of textbooks, Blair was asking about resale texts. Ellison scanned Blair's heartbeat. It was still faster than normal but his voice had lost some of the residual fear that had colored it so alarmingly earlier.

"Chief, come out here a minute?"

"Hang on, Carol. Be right back. Yeah, Jim?"

"Did you get those text books you needed?" "No. Not yet." Blair sounded a bit defensive.

"Why not?"

"Onehundredfortheset."

"Chief, I didn't understand you. I may be a sentinel but even I couldn't hear that. Want to run it by me a little slower?"

"One hundred for the set."

"You need them for the course, right? Right." He waited until Blair had nodded before saying, "Then use the cash card."

"Jim, I haven't been paid..." Ellison knew that Sandburg wanted to be independent but this was ridiculous. All the time the kid devoted to Jim's sentinel abilities and helping down at the station and he didn't think it was worth a textbook or two?

"Sandburg, I think your help is worth a textbook or two. So not your account, Chief, the loft's." As Blair still hesitated, Jim ordered with mock severity, "Just do it, okay?"

"Okay... thanks, Jim." Ellison grabbed the back of the kid's neck and squeezed lightly.

"You're welcome, kid. Now, don't keep your friend waiting."

"Thanks, man..." Blair held his sentinel's eyes with his own for a beat longer "...for being there, as always." Then he turned on his heel and went back into the office.


	4. Chapter 4

The week that followed was one that Blair Sandburg would have loved to be able to forget. He had been abducted by an unbonded sentinel; discovered his mother was still alive and suspected of murder, found out who his father was and wished he hadn't, and had undergone a Dark bonding with his sentinel. Well, maybe he didn't want to forget the bonding and he was grateful that Naomi wasn't dead. The rest he didn't even want to think about. Too much had happened in too short a time and it had left him drained. Long needed changes were occurring among the sentinels and guides of Cascade and among the ordinary people with whom they worked. He and his sentinel had agreed that they needed to consolidate the gains won at the Sentinel Conference before they openly took on the system. Blair himself had argued the necessity of being sure that their support was solid before the Sunset Law would make obsolete the GDP legislation. That need and necessity didn't help in what he had to do now that the Conference was over. Their gains came with a price he had to pay.

 

He was back at Rainier but he still had to face a 14 day GDP disciplinary sentence for his part in helping members of the Guide Liberation Army escape a GDP raid. He had been lucky, but for Jim cutting a deal, he would have spent the next two weeks in the correction facility doing hard time. He knew it wasn't time to trade on what he was owed by Slater but if Jim hadn't managed to keep him out of the facility...He shuddered and his sentinel turned to look at him, "You all right there, Chief?"

 

"Sure, Jim. Just memories." He didn't have to elaborate.

 

"They can't hurt you, Junior." Ellison answered Blair's unspoken fears firmly, but all the same a hand on his arm and a quick pat from his sentinel reassured him that his friend understood. Today was the first day of the sentence.

 

Blair trailed up the stairs and found his sentinel waiting for him outside the door.

 

"Okay, Chief, let's get this over and done."

 

The guard on duty looked up from the log. "Can I help you, sirs?" His gaze drifted over Blair. He had a good idea who this was but he didn't want to jump to conclusions and treat a citizen like a guide. Lieutenant Dexter frowned on any such really bad PR.

 

"Senior Sentinel Prime Ellison."

 

At that, Blair folded into the guide position, his shoulder pressed against Jim's hip. He was the epitome of the perfectly trained guide. His head bent and his hair swung loose to hide the small smile he couldn't quite manage to keep from reaching his lips. Senior Sentinel Prime Ellison. Jim was going in with all barrels blazing, making sure that they were very much aware of just who they were dealing with.

 

"Of course, Senior Sentinel Prime, we were expecting you." He pressed the intercom key, "Lieutenant Harris, Sentinel Prime Ellison is here."

 

Lieutenant Harris came out, smiling, "Good morning, Sentinel Prime. If you would come into my office, we can complete the necessary paperwork and go through the guidelines."

 

Jim dropped a hand down to his guide's neck, his finger pattern telling Blair to get to his feet. His young guide slid back into his place behind his sentinel's shoulder, one hand twisted in the back of his jacket and the other resting on his shoulder. Jim couldn't help but wonder if the GDP gave clothing allowances to sentinels. His wardrobe was certainly suffering from having a guide. He already had two sweaters twisted out of shape. But shapeless sweaters were a small price to pay if the contact kept his guide calm. The idea of his guide having to visit the GDP office every day for fourteen days scared him almost as much as it did Blair.

 

In the office, Jim was waved into a chair and Blair took his place by his side. Harris leaned back in his chair.

 

"Your guide has been sentenced to 14 days curfew. I have his University schedule for the two weeks. He must attend his classes as student or teacher. We've blocked out study time and library time as well as office hours for his students. Any time he is not at one of the allowed activities he will report to us here and sign in. If for any reason he doesn't sign in, we will go looking for him and he will be brought back here for the remainder of the day regardless of his schedule. He will also have one day compulsory leash correction session for each infringement of the rules I've just explained."

 

Ellison frowned as he felt the shudder run through the younger man at his side. Harris wasn't finished.

 

"Let me clarify that last for you, Sentinel. The guide will be taken to the correction facility and will receive a day's training with one of our Guide Training Officers. You may, if you choose, collect him that evening." Harris held a hand up to stop the words he knew would come. "Not all training officers are like Wilson and his crew, Sentinel." Ellison's eyes said he doubted that and Harris found he could not quite meet that cool gaze.

 

"Sentinel Prime, you will drop him off each morning and pick him up at the end of each day. If for any reason you cannot pick him up, we will put him in the hostel until you can." Harris placed the paper in front of Ellison. "If you would read this and sign it, Sentinel, we can conclude our business."

 

Jim read through it carefully. It said exactly what Harris had explained, nothing more and nothing less. He critically examined the Lieutenant. The GDP officer held still for the scrutiny; he had been scanned before and knew that he had to meet the sentinel's eyes. Jim nodded. If he were honest, the only GDP personnel that he would tolerate were Commander Daniel Slater and Guard Gibb. And that only after they had proven themselves. Maybe this Harris would as well? He didn't seem to take any pleasure in the program he was outlining.

 

"You may leave your guide here. His first class is at 10:00 am; he will stay here until 9:45."

 

Ellison hesitated and Harris braced himself for the arguments. He watched as the sentinel tilted his head to one side and blue eyes looked down at the guide's bowed head. The lieutenant couldn't prove it and no one would believe it anyway but he could have sworn that the guide said something sentinel soft that stopped Ellison's tirade.

 

Blair's voice whispered for his ears only, "I'll be okay, man, it's okay. You can go." Ellison got to his feet. His face hardened and there was menace in his voice as he warned, "If I find he's been hurt in any way, there will be hell to pay. This whole thing is a crock anyway and you know it."

 

This time Harris saw the young guide's lips move and one slender hand tap the top of the sentinel's foot. The lieutenant's eyes narrowed as once again, the guide overruled the sentinel. Interesting.

 

"I understand, Sentinel, he will not be hurt."

 

Jim nodded and left. Blair had never had felt so lonely.

 

Harris pushed the intercom button. "Kerry, you can bring those letters in for me to sign now."

 

Blair slowly relaxed the muscles in his body, starting at his shoulders and working down his body in a technique he had mastered to see himself through his time in the correction facility. "Guide," Harris dropped an elastic tie on the floor in front of him, "tie your hair back."

 

Blair broke the position and scraped his hair back at the nape of his neck. Then he immediately went back to the working position.

 

"You will tie your hair back whenever you come into this office. I have a standard of dress that you will adhere to, Guide." Blair didn't answer verbally, he just chanced a nod.

 

The secretary came in and hesitated. Harris said, "It's all right, just ignore Guide Sandburg."

 

Blair saw a pair of shapely legs go past his line of vision. He tuned out the sound of their voices and ran through his lecture in his mind. Then she was gone.

 

Harris checked the clock. "You may go, Guide Sandburg."

 

Blair got to his feet; 30 minutes on his knees, he could do that. In the correction facility he had been down for hours in some of the worse leash wraps there were.

 

"Thank you, sir," he said the words automatically, the response learned to appease the "trainers" in an effort to escape the beatings.

 

He kept his head down. It was only when he was heading down the stairs of the office that he relaxed. He was free! Two GDP officers coming toward him cast measuring looks at him but Blair kept going. The rules were clear and straightforward; once on the campus he didn't have to kneel. He hurried to his class never noticing the interested eyes that followed him.

 

At the fountain a group of students were watching him carefully. "He's a bonded guide and he had the nerve to come to University."

 

A girl said mockingly, "As if it would do him any good, everyone knows that guides are incapable of going beyond high school, if that."

 

"Well, maybe. But if that's right how come he's got a BA, an MA and is going for a PhD?" A young man challenged, not sure he really wanted to have anything to do with this group. Although Robin was pretty and rumor had it that she never kept to one guy for long.

 

"That's easy. Because he's a freak and doesn't know his place," the first student grinned. "But he's going to find out we won't take any crap from him, won't he?" His words were greeted with a murmur of agreement. "I already called the GDP down on him once... they went to his office but I don't know what happened after that. No one's talking. But we'll get him yet."

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

Commander Slater was holding a steaming cup in his hand as he looked out the window of his office. He had just finished reading through his report and had decided he deserved a break. His musings were interrupted by a knock.

 

"Come in." No rest for the weary...

 

Guard Gibb put his head around the door, "Sentinel Prime Ellison to see you, Sir."

 

"Send him in." Slater set down his cup and prepared to welcome this most difficult... and interesting... sentinel.

 

Ellison gave him a slight smile, but to Commander Slater, used to the stern countenance that the sentinel showed the world, it was the equivalent of a full out grin. Slater watched as Sandburg knelt down, and saw Ellison's smile falter. He braced himself... this couldn't be good.

 

"Blair is on punishment detail at Rainier for fourteen days for his role in the failed GLA raid. He's supposed to report into the office first thing in the morning. He's working with me today, can you inform Lieutenant Harris that Blair actually did report in to GDP authorities."

 

"No problem, Sentinel."

 

"Thanks. Come on, Chief, let's get a move on before Simon puts out an APB."

 

Slater breathed a sigh of relief and then frowned in puzzlement. Why weren't guide and sentinel protesting the sentence? Judging by what went on at the Conference they would have had the backing of all the sentinels in the city. Just what was going on under the guide's curly head and behind the sentinel's icy blue eyes?


	5. Chapter 5

The day was overcast and it rather matched his mood. Before long, beads of rain started to run down the windscreen and onto the hood of the blue and white truck. Blair was a bit self-conscious as he drove the vehicle that was his sentinel's pride and joy even though it was old...correction *classic.* Eyebrows had been raised when Jim had asked him to take the truck and deliver a package to his father's office. Everyone knew that Jim Ellison did not let *anyone* drive his truck. But Jim was caught up in the bullpen that morning and the parcel needed to be dropped off today. Okay, he was pretty sure that Jim also wanted to avoid his father.

Blair was still feeling his way on Jim's relationship with his father. He had never known his own father; his usually talkative mother had been remarkably closed mouth on the subject. Only recently had he found out why but meeting his father for the first time as the man lay dying had not given Blair much experience in father/son interactions. Still he had read William Ellison's and his sentinel's emotions during a high-tension dinner he had shared with them and he knew both men wanted to work things out. They just didn't know how to go about it. Blair had decided to try and bring them closer together and was alert for any clues that might help him do that. He grinned, Wonder what Jim would say if he knew what I was up to?

He followed the directions Jim had written out for him until he reached the Ellison Corporation Building. Carefully, he pulled into a visitor's parking space in the huge underground parking lot. The building itself was an impressive multi-story edifice that covered an entire city block. Blair whistled silently; he hadn't known his sentinel was this well connected.

Blair took the elevator to the ground floor and bounced up to the reception desk. The receptionist looked up and smiled and was treated to a mega-wattage Sandburg special grin. It was nice to be treated as an ordinary person. He was finally getting used to it now; in the bullpen, the detectives followed Jim's lead and at Rainier he had Doctor Woodward and Carol and the entire soccer team to set the tone.

"Can I help you, sir?" Big green eyes batted at him and Blair read both messages she was trying to send easily. He was there on his sentinel's business but he took a moment to savor the address. Sir, she called me "sir" and not Guide! Maybe after he completed his mission, he could stop by the desk again.

"Yes, please. I have a parcel for hand delivery to Mr William Ellison."

Suddenly, she wasn't smiling as she looked him up and down. Her hand went to a button.

Blair heard someone...someones... come up behind him. He turned and found himself looking at two broad chests concealed behind cheap suits and rent-a-cop badges.

"Sylvia?" the taller one queried.

"He's got a parcel for Mr. Ellison. He looks like one of the hug-a-tree brigade from Crossfield." The shorter, relatively speaking anyway, reached for Blair's arm. Blair waved him off and stepped back, hands making "hold it" gestures in the air.

"Hey, man, I'm just here to deliver a parcel, that's all. Its from his son Jim... James... Detective Ellison, I..."

"Sure it is. Sylvia, is Mister Ellison expecting a parcel from his son Jim...James... whatever?"

"No," the receptionist stated it levelly.

Blair's shoulders were taken in vise-like grips. He shuddered at the malice that flowed into him at their touch. He strengthened his empathic barriers as he was pulled towards the security office, the package dropping on the floor.

"Leave it alone, Sylvia. I'll send someone to check it out after we run this guy through the security screen."

Blair's flight instincts kicked in and he twisted away from them. He wasn't going to wait around until they checked his identification and found out he was a guide. They'd call the GDP and ... He was bolting towards the door to the stairwell when he heard some one call his name. He recognized the voice and was turning to answer when he was tackled to the floor. His breath left him in a strangled grunt.

"Keep back, Sir, he's..."

"Let him up. NOW." There was authority behind that voice.

"Mr. Ellison..." the security guards chorused in protest.

"He's my son's guide."

Blair felt the weight come off his back and he was pulled to his feet. A big hand remained clamped on his shoulder despite Ellison's identification. Blair glanced at the receptionist and saw the look of disgust on her face as she heard Ellison's words. The change in attitude was almost like a physical blow. There goes ordinary...

"Let go of him." This time the order was obeyed. Blair made a show of pulling his sweater back into place before he raised his eyes to his sentinel's father.

"Hello again, Mister Sandburg, my apologies but there have been some threats made against me and my staff are a bit jumpy."

"Sentinel Ellison asked me to deliver this package for your birthday. He would have come himself but work....." Blair trailed off as William Ellison smiled sadly in acceptance of his son's absence.

William waved security back. "Thank you for bringing it to me." He stalled, not sure what else to say to his son's guide.

William looked up in relief as his second son arrived. "Are you all right, Dad? I heard the security alert." The newcomer was a smaller, younger version of the sentinel, only with more hair and fewer muscles. The man was looking him over with thinly veiled interest.

"I'm all right. Security made a mistake. This is Jimmy's Guide, Mister..."

"Sandburg." Stephen finished. His face split into a smile. "So, I finally get to meet Guide Sandburg."

Blair looked at him and moved back slightly, slap into one of the security guards who were still eyeing him suspiciously.

"Stephen Ellison." His sentinel's younger brother put a hand out. There was no hesitation in the offer and Blair took his hand. Stephen's grip was firm but not crushing.

"Thank you for getting me back to Rainier, Mister Ellison." Blair said it as if he meant it. Which he did.

"My pleasure, Mister Sand... no, it's Blair, isn't it? I'm Stephen. It seems silly to be so formal. Anyway, Blair, it didn't take much on my part, your colleagues at Rainier were delighted to have you back and I owed Jim one for saving my life. He would never let me help him, I'm glad he let me help you. You're doing a good job with him, Guide. I appreciate what you're doing for my brother and I hope that we can be friends."

Blair nodded, unsure of what to say.

William listened to the exchange and made a mental note to find out about the "lifesaving" escapade of his sons later.

The receptionist was suddenly aware that William Ellison was looking straight at her. Sylvia hurried to wipe the disgust from her face. She had a sinking feeling she hadn't succeeded in time as her employer excused himself from the guide and walked over to her desk.

"Miss Peters, if I ever hear or see you behave like that again towards my son's guide, you will be collecting your papers ten minutes later. Do we understand each other?"

She flushed red. "Yes, Sir."

"Good." He turned back to his son's guide. "You wouldn't mind coming up to my office for a moment, would you, *Mister* Sandburg?"

Blair was about to refuse. He just wanted to get out of there. Then he realized that William Ellison was making a point and he nodded. He could see the same stubborn trait in the older man that was in his sentinel. It was easier to let him have his way.

William Ellison tucked the parcel under his arm and belatedly felt a warm glow. It was the first birthday present he had received from his oldest son in 15 years. He knew that the reason he had holding it now was because of the young hippie dressed grad student. Not just because he had delivered it but because the guide had started to warm up his son's cold heart. If he was going to build bridges with his son, correction, sons, this strange young man was likely to be the mainstay of the whole operation. Fortunately for William, he seemed happy to do it.

Blair was nervous. So nervous, he had dipped his barriers slightly to get a bearing on the Ellisons and especially to try and understand his sentinel's father. He didn't have much information on how to deal with his sentinel's family. When he had spoken to other guides at the Conference, they had all admitted that they had rarely seen their sentinels' families. Usually, they would be put out of the way when there were family get-togethers. Blair's mind went back to the time in the cafe when Jim had stood up to his own father to have his guide sit with them for dinner rather than exiling him to the kitchen. It had been a nerve-racking meal for the empath but he had seen it as a new start for his sentinel. From what he had felt the older Ellison had been trying his best help him past the discomfort. There were nerves fluttering through the older man, he was scared of making a mistake with his son's guide as much as with his son. He's afraid of me. The thought had hit Blair like a ten-pound weight. He still didn't know why his sentinel's father would be afraid of him. He pulled himself back to the present as he realized that William Ellison was talking to him.

"I have a photo album that I want to give Jimmy, would you take it to him?" Blair read something that was almost desperation in him.

"Sure, Mister Ellison."

"This way...Mister Sandburg." William Ellison led the way to the elevator.  
In the elevator, Blair kept his distance from the Ellisons until the car started to fill up. He took a deep breath and raised his barriers as high as he could, wishing his sentinel was there. Stephen moved forward and acted as a shield between him and the other people. It wasn't quite enough, Blair flinched as a hand caught his forearm. William Ellison pulled him behind him so that he and his son together carved out a space for the young guide. No one was willing to crowd the owner of the building. As Ellison released Blair, he gave the arm a small pat. "You all right, Mister Sandburg?"

"Yes, thanks, Mister Ellison." The next ten floors passed in silence.

Blair was ushered out of the lift, flanked by the two large Ellison men. A few heads turned to watch the mismatched trio and Blair couldn't fault their curiosity. There was their boss and his son in expensive business suits on either side of a "hippie wannabe." Blair didn't kid himself; he knew what many of the police officers at the station called him.

The secretary, looked up, and started to rise with a sheaf of paperwork, but was waved back to her seat. "Give me half an hour, Jilly." Ellison hesitated. "Jilly, this is Mister Sandburg. He is a friend of my oldest son, James. If at anytime he calls, in person or on the phone, you put him straight through."

"Yes, sir." She looked at Blair with interest. She had worked for William Ellison for three years and he had lived up to his reputation of hard-hearted businessman and yet here he was telling her this young *good looking * guy was to be given privileged access that even Commission Warren and the Mayor didn't have.

William picked up a bottle of brandy. "Can I offer you a drink, Mr. Sandburg?"

"No, thank you, sir. I... er.. don't drink."

"A guide thing?" Ellison seemed interested  
"I haven't drunk since I came on-line as a guide. I don't know how it would affect my empathic barriers, Mister Ellison."

"Perhaps for the best." Ellison put down the bottle without pouring himself a drink.

William picked up a box. "This is a family photograph album. I think Jimmy would want to see this." Ellison went silent for a minute, then he went on tentatively, "I have a birthday party coming up soon. I would like Jimmy to attend, Mister Sandburg. Could you see that he does?"

"I can't order him around, Mister Ellison, but I can ask him. Where and when is it, sir?"

Stephen cut in quickly, "10:00 P.M. on the 28th. It should be convenient for him, its right after the Officer of the Year Awards at the same place, the Tower Hilton."

"I don't think Jim is planning to go to the Office of the Year Awards, he...."

Stephen laughed. "Jim doesn't like the Mayor and its mutual. Ever since he wrote off the Mayor's Limo trying to arrest a paramilitary commander who was trying to hijack the Picasso Art Show." The younger Ellison brother grinned lopsidedly. "Believe me, Blair, when Jim was finished with the limo, well, let's just say that I've seen better cars in the crusher."

William broke in harshly, "He has to go to the Officer of the Year Awards. He...."

"Mister Ellison, why is it so important?"

"Did you read me, Guide?" There was an edge to Ellison's voice.

Blair moved back from him. "N... no. I ... you just..." "Sorry, Mister Sandburg, my apologies. I didn't mean to snap."

Stephen followed his father's hesitant apology. "Jim is being made Officer of the Year, Blair, so we need you to make sure he goes, okay?"

Blair's smile was brilliant, *His* sentinel was being honored! He felt a swell of pride in him. "Certainly, Mister Ellison. I'll do my best."

Stephen said dryly, "Well, if your best isn't good enough it's a sure thing that no one else's would be either." Blair felt the ready color flood his face. He was relieved when father and son said their goodbyes a moment later and he could escape back to Jim. To his surprise, both men escorted him back to the elevator.

Only when the guide was on his way down did William turn to his son.

"Mind explaining how you knew of Blair Sandburg, Stephen? And what's this about Rainier? Not to mention life saving?"

Stephen took a deep breath. "It's a long story, Dad."

"Then get started, son."

0-0-0-0-0

Blair settled back into the truck and exhaled slowly. It was almost as if he had been holding his breath since he had entered the building. He had felt the Ellisons' need to connect with him. They both wanted his help with Jim. They were a divided family and they wanted to be whole again; he smiled, it gave him a warm feeling deep inside that they should see him as a means of achieving this. He started the *classic* and headed for the University.

He found a parking spot close to Hargrove Hall and stopped in long enough to collect some paperwork. He kept the truck keys in his hand, relishing the sense of independence they gave him. He hadn't said anything to Jim but he missed driving. He had owned a beaten up Corvair but that had disappeared when Barnes had taken him. Since then he had resigned himself to never driving again. Guides could have drivers' licenses but they could not own a car and the insurance companies would not cover them except on their sentinel's insurance policy. Running errands for his sentinel was more pleasure than work. His good mood continued as he bounced down the steps of Hargrove Hall and tossed the books and backpack on the passenger seat. Woodward had complimented him on the papers his students had produced and had asked him to prepare an article for publication. Blair was humming to himself as he turned onto a steep access road leading off campus. A horn blared behind him. Startled, he glanced into the rear view mirror and saw a car coming up behind him fast. It plowed into the back bumper of the truck, throwing him forward. "What the hell!"

He checked his mirror again and saw a woman staring at him, a panic stricken look on her face. The car hit him again. Mind whirling, he knew she was not trying to force him off the road. Her brakes must have failed and she couldn't stop. His heart went into his mouth.

Okay, Okay, calm down. You can do this.

Blair began to brake slowly but firmly. Soon he could smell rubber burning. There was a series of small jolts and then her front and his rear bumper made contact and stayed. He continued braking, the truck tried to fishtail and he had to fight the wheel to keep it straight. He had almost brought both vehicles to a stop when a SUV on a cross street ran a stop sign. There was nothing he could do, his overloaded brakes could not stop in time. Oh God, Jim's gonna kill me! The thought flitted through his mind as the truck smacked into the SUV behind the rear wheel. There was a screech of metal as all three vehicles slid into a parked vehicle. Blair's head came into hard contact with the steering wheel and, suddenly, everything went quiet but for the hissing of radiators and the creaking of over stressed metal.

Slowly, he lifted his head as he heard the shrill wail of a police siren. He carefully opened his door and dropped to the ground, hanging onto the truck for a moment until a wave of dizziness passed. Then he made his way back to the woman. She was an older woman with short greying brown hair, dressed in a comfortable two piece sweater set. Blair got the impression that she was normally confident if reserved. But right now she was as white as a sheet and shaking badly. She was trying to get out of her car. It looked as if her legs were going to fold and Blair took a quick stride forward. She caught hold of his arm and he helped her out and over to a garden wall. She hung onto him for dear life as she thanked him over and over again.

Blair blinked as the siren ran down and he saw the flashing lights of a police car. He wasn't quite sure when it had arrived but he was grateful for the help it promised.

"You people all right here?" It was an older officer with kind grey eyes. Blair nodded and said, "Yes, sir. Just shook up some. The other driver?"

The police officer snorted. "He's been drinking too much but other than that he's all right. Now then, what happened here?"

"My brakes failed. This young man used his truck to stop mine. If he hadn't... and I hit the intersection down there..." she shuddered badly.

The police officer nodded. "We need to get statements from everyone but I think you should take a seat in the patrol car for now." He could see shock had already settled in with the older woman and there was blood running down the side of the young man's face. "I'm Officer Verner and you are...?

Before the young man or the woman could answer, his partner came up. He spun the young man around and pushed him up against the side of the truck, none too gently. As he forced the smaller man to lean against the truck with his legs spread and his weight resting on his hands, he snarled, "Stupid move, punk, pinching a cop's car." He looked at the large dent in the front fender, "Ellison is going to have your hide for that."

Verner said, "Take it easy, Davidson, I want to hear his story before we go jumping to conclusions." Just then the woman moaned and almost fainted. Verner got an arm around her and supported her over to the police car. Behind him the young man started to speak...

"The truck's not stolen. Detective Ellison told me I should use it." Blair was feeling sick and dizzy. He wasn't quite sure what was happening... but he suspected that this cop was right about one thing...Jim *would* have his hide. Better Jim than this guy...

"Sure he did, so why did he report it missing at 2:00 o'clock and put an APB out on it?"

"That's got to be a mistake! My name's Blair Sandburg. I'm Jim's guide and he asked me to...."

He didn't finish his explanation as his hands were roughly pulled behind his back and handcuffs snapped on.

Verner got the woman seated in the police car and came over to the truck. He looked surprised as he saw the cuffed prisoner. His attention was distracted as he looked over his shoulder as another vehicle arrived. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the prisoner blanch. Verner looked more closely at the car; it was a black GDP vehicle. "What the hell are they doing here?"

"Officer Verner?"

"Yes?" Verner wasn't happy and he didn't care who knew it. He'd had run-ins with GDPers before. They seemed to think that there was one law for them and another for everybody else.

"Thompson and Baldwin, GDP. We got a report that a guide had stolen this vehicle. I see you have him, good work. We'll take the Guide into custody now." Davidson grinned and stepped away from his prisoner. The two GDP guards caught hold of the young guide and were pulling him none too gently towards the GDP car when their captive choked out, "You have to tell Jim, please, tell Jim."

Blair knew he was begging but couldn't help it. Someone has to tell Jim, Jim would fix it.

The older woman got out of the police car and grabbed Verner's arm.

"What's happening? Why is he in handcuffs? That young man saved my life!"

One of the GDP guards called over to her, "Rogue guide, ma'am. Don't worry, we've got it under control."

"Under control?! He saved my life, he's hurt, and you call handcuffing him, getting it under control!"

Verner tried to calm her down but her face showed her horror as she saw the GDP guards remove the handcuffs and begin to leash her rescuer. Verner snapped, "Here, Davidson. Help her while I call this in." He strode to the police car and radioed in. An ambulance arrived and the woman was loaded into the back to be taken to the hospital. She was still protesting as the door closed on her.  
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Jim answered the phone, glad for the excuse to put off the paperwork a little longer. "Ellison."

Rafe saw a look of disgust and anger on the sentinel's face and listened in on the conversation.

"No, of course I did not put an APB out on the truck. What's that?... I gave told him to use it it.... The GDP? What the hell? Now you listen and listen good, you hold onto Sandburg. I'm on my way.... I don't care what you have to do. Keep hold of him.....Well, think of something because if my guide isn't there when I arrive you're going to wish you were riding an ambulance!"

"Jim?" Rafe ventured.

"Blair was in a traffic accident. The patrol cops got a report that the truck was stolen and somehow the GDP arrived to take Blair into custody. I need a lift."

Rafe was already on his feet and grabbing his car keys.

Blair's mind was frozen. He was shaking violently when he was pulled out of the GDP car by one of the uniformed cops. Only part of the conversation going on around him got through his deepening shock . "Back off, officer, this is GDP business." That he heard and he shut his eyes tightly.

"Ellison...on... way..... no APB."  
"Too late..."

"....argue .... Ellison.... material witness...."

He felt himself pulled away from the guard's rough grip. Before he understood what had just happened he was manhandled into the police car. A rough blanket was pulled around his shoulders as shock wrapped him in blessed oblivion. He ignored the officer's questions, ignored the gentle pats on his face, ignored everything until a screech of brakes cut through the fog... and he heard his sentinel. He couldn't understand the words but Jim was angry. The cop's words came back to him Ellison is going to have your hide. He was wrong, he had to be wrong.

Jim disposed of the GDP guards with a few well-chosen threats. He could have said more, wanted to cast aspersions on the idiots' parentage at least, but he had something, someone, more important to attend to. He opened the back door of the police car and crouched down. "Blair." Ellison put a hand out and gently tipped his guide's face up. Dark blue eyes held a look of shock but the pupils were equal and responsive. Jim heaved a sigh of relief; it looked like the kid had escaped without a concussion. But there was a nasty bump developing on his forehead and a thin line of blood trickled down the side of the pale face.

"Jim... I didn't take the truck... I didn't..." The words were slurred.

"I know that, Chief. There was a mistake made at the precinct. You're okay, kid, just hang on for me for a bit longer. I'm just going to speak to the officer and then get you back to the station to get checked out."

"The truck, Jim, I'm sorry, I couldn't stop in time. I'm so sorry, Jim..."

"Sandburg!" Jim's voice hardened until it was the command tone that never failed to get Blair's attention. "The truck is nothing. That can be repaired or I can get another one. The only important thing here is you, that you are all right. You, I cannot replace. Understand me, Chief?" Blair nodded his head automatically but Jim wondered just how much he actually did understand.

Jim's senses ranged over his guide. He could feel the change in body temperature as Blair slid deeper into shock. Jim pulled back the blanket to check his guide's ribs and snarled an oath. He quickly removed the leash, his face showing his disgust. Ellison pulled up Blair's sweater and ran hypersensitive hands over the smaller man's torso. Nothing was broken or cracked, but Blair would have some spectacular bruising from the steering wheel. Finished with his check-up, he tugged the blanket closer to his guide's shivering body.

"Take it easy, kid. I'll be right back. You're safe now."

Blair nodded at his sentinel's words and returned the squeeze Ellison gave his hand. He watched his sentinel walk up to the two uniforms and the GDP officers and settled back to watch the floor show. His sentinel threw the leash at the guards. Whatever he said was short and sharp but it made one guard pale and the other turn red-faced. He was back almost straight away.

"Jim..."

"It's all right, Chief, we're on our way."

Blair finally let himself believe that it was over as he was gathered up and escorted to Rafe's car. Something was missing... "My backpack ... my books!" "Jim, your dad gave me an album for you. I ......"

"Its all right, Chief, I'll get it." Jim gave his shoulder a firm squeeze. "You just stay put a minute. Okay?" He must have nodded because Jim gently smoothed a curl off his aching forehead and left.

The sentinel collected the things from his truck and dropped them into the trunk of Rafe's car before he climbed into the back seat with Blair. Ellison collected his guide against him and felt the shudders running through the smaller body. "Connect, Chief." It was not a request, nor was it permission, it was an order. He felt the tug on his mind then fear touched with panic flooded into him. Jim scowled, he put that reaction down to the GDP and the leash. Finally, as Jim rubbed soothing circles on his Guide's back, the younger man calmed.

Rafe watched them in the mirror. When he saw the deep blue eyes open he asked, "You all right, Blair?"

The young Guide nodded and Rafe relaxed. The younger cop watched sentinel and guide in the mirror, then he asked a question that puzzled him, "Jim, there was an APB on the truck, that explains the patrol, but how did the GDP get there so fast?"

"Good question, Rafe. We'll make a detective of you yet."

"Right." Rafe put as much disgust in that one word as he could and saw the answering smile on the older detective's face. It was Jim's first smile since they had heard about the crash. Rafe grinned to himself; the guide was safe and so all was right in the sentinel's world.


	6. Chapter 6

imon Banks took a sip of his coffee, considered a moment and then shrugged. His cousin had sent yet another new blend, dark roast coffee laced with mint. It had sounded sickening but it actually had a nice kick to it. He laid the copy of Sentinel 102 he had been reading in an attempt to stay ahead of his sentinel's crises onto his desk as Rhonda came to the door.

"Daryl's here, Simon."

Simon sat up with a start, sharp brown eyes turning worried as his son entered. "Daryl, is everything all right?" He asked automatically as he noticed his son's nervous fidgeting.

"Fine, Dad."

"So why do you look nervous?" He watched his son make a noticeable effort to calm down.

"I have to go on a placement for three weeks, see what work is like."

"And you want to come to the station? No problem, son. Rhonda can sort that out for you. It will..."

"Dad, I told Miss Murphy that I was thinking of joining the GDP."

"WHAT?" Simon yelled loud enough that faces turned in the bullpen. Simon lowered his voice. "You want to work with that pack of idiots?"

Daryl looked puzzled. He couldn't understand why his dad was yelling at him. He'd never been upset with the GDP before, in fact he could not remember his dad even talking about them.

Simon was just about to snap at Daryl and demand that he drop this stupid idea when he remembered how stubborn his son could be. He's a chip off the old block, more I say no, the more Daryl will want to do this. He calmed himself down. The GDP, by and large, were asses. His son was smart, eventually, he'd see through them and it would be a learning experience. He personally would see to that. Simon hid an evil grin behind his coffee cup as he son explained.

"Mom said it would be a good career move. The GDP officer corps is made up of college graduates. I could get a scholarship at Rainier and then become an officer and ...."

"Your placement would be where? At the local GDP office?"

"At the office at Rainier University. I'd report first to an Officer Dexter and then I get to shadow some of the GDP graduates and see what they do. That sort of thing... it should be really cool, Dad." Daryl glanced around. "Is Sentinel Prime Ellison here?"

 

"No, Jim is out." Simon was short. He remembered, even if his son apparently didn't, how ticked off Jim had been the last time Daryl had tried to "discuss" sentinels with him. "Dad, you promised that I could talk to him again. I said I was sorry I made him angry. I didn't think talking about the guide was such a big deal."

 

Simon raised his eyes to the heavens for strength. "Son, you talked about Blair as if he was less than human. How did you think they would react?"

 

"I didn't know it would hurt him, the sentinel, I mean. I know better now. Please, Dad, it would really be something for me to be able tell Miss Murphy that I had interviewed a sentinel. Maybe I... you could even get him to come to the school. You know, show them how everything works. It would..."

 

Mentally sighing over the self-centeredness of adolescents, Simon interrupted the flow of words. "I'll ask Detective Ellison if he wouldn't mind talking with you but there will be certain guidelines..." Simon had to swallow a grin as he realized the inadvertent pun he had just made... "Son, because I don't want to see a repeat of what happened in the car. I can't promise you anything because he is a busy man, but I'll speak to him about it, okay?"

 

"Cool, dad!" Daryl was shifting in his seat, unable to keep still he was so excited. Simon knew he should have quashed Daryl's request to talk with Jim but he couldn't just turn his son down. Maybe if he set it up so that Sandburg would be there as well... perhaps the four of them could take in a Jags game... it would not be too much like pulling teeth.

 

His tentative plans were put on hold when he realized that Daryl was talking again. His son had picked up the book Simon had been reading and was looking through it.

 

"Sentinel 102. We get that next term, Dad. Miss Murphy.....".

 

Simon tuned his son out again. He didn't particularly want to hear more of the party line that the sainted Miss Murphy was spouting. He was more interested in making sure that Daryl got all the GDP crap out of his head once and for all. Simon would go to hell in a handcart before he let his son become one of the bigoted officers that he had met at the Sanctuary. He still remembered seeing Blair in the red correction uniform with the black circle. The way he was leashed and tagged in Gross' office as if he was a rabid animal. The mere memory still turned his stomach. There was no way that his son was going to become one of them and if that took talking to his ex-wife until she understood the evil that he had seen, that was what he would do.

 

Daryl waving a slip of paper in front of him brought Simon back to present concerns. "Dad, could you sign this? It gives me your permission to do the placement."

 

Simon pulled it towards him. Before he scrawled his signature on it, he cautioned, "You behave yourself, Daryl. Remember how Detective Ellison reacted and mind your manners around the Sentinel and his guide. Maybe especially around his guide." Simon saw the mutinous look in his son's eyes at the mention of the guide but before he could ask what the problem was, his phone rang.

 

"Banks..... Okay, I'll be with you in a minute." The captain rubbed a hand over a weary face and said, "Daryl, I have to leave the office for a while, then I'll take you to lunch. Okay?"

 

"Okay, Dad." The whine in Daryl's voice said it really wasn't okay.

 

"I'll be back as soon as I can, son."

 

Daryl Banks settled in his father's chair. There was nothing unusual about his dad being called away. Job 1, son 0, he thought cynically. He was so bored. He picked at the files in front of him, hoping to read about an interesting crime or two. All he found were expense vouchers that quickly lost his interest. He worked on swivelling the desk chair, seeing how many times he could go completely around on one push. Glancing up he saw Rhonda watching him, an amused look on her face. Daryl was suddenly embarrassed that he had been caught playing with the furniture. He was a teenager not some baby! His expression of indignant disgust only fuelled the secretary's amusement. She shook her head and Daryl could almost feel her words Was I ever that young? Once she took pity on him and looked away, he reached into the desk drawer. His dad usually kept a computer game in there for him. It was usually one that was long out of date but it was better than nothing.

 

Daryl had worked his way through twelve levels of the game and was plotting how he could get his father to replace the unit with something a little more challenging, maybe even something that had come out after he was born, when he heard loud voices out in the bullpen. He stared out his father's window and saw people scattering, finding work that needed to be done. The source of the disturbance was soon in view. Sentinel Ellison was dragging his guide along by one arm while keeping up a flow of angry words. This is way more interesting than some dumb game. Daryl abandoned the game and moved so he could peer through the blinds on the door's window.

 

The guide was literally pushed into the chair behind the sentinel's desk. When he tried to get up, a large hand pushed him back down and the sentinel snarled, "Stay put, Sandburg." Ellison moved away and the guide shifted in his seat. "Sandburg." The sentinel didn't even turn around. He just growled the command, threat(?) over his shoulder. The guide settled back down in the chair and rested his forehead in his hands. His long hair veiled his face from the other detectives and one curious teenager.

 

Blair was fighting to keep his vital signs level. If he gave into the panic that waited for him to relax his vigilance, his pounding heart would just inflame the sentinel's anger even more. The young guide took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. He had never seen Jim vent like this. The other detectives and patrolmen had told him what Jim had been like before they had bonded, but he hadn't really believed them. Now he did and just the thought of that much anger directed at him by his sentinel was enough to send him into hiding. He wouldn't! I know he wouldn't!

 

H edged near to the sentinel's desk. "You okay, Blair?" He hoped his tone, his emotions, conveyed to the empath the concern he tried to express in those few words. The younger, smaller man was rubbing his arms as if he were cold and when his head came up, Brown could see the beginnings of multi-colored bruises marking his face.

 

"Get away from him, H." Rafe issued the warning as he took in the sentinel's body language. Jim had stopped his pacing up and down the office and was bristling, just waiting for a person to make a wrong move that would let him tear someone apart. Ellison was totally unaware of what his state was doing to his already shaky guide.

 

H slowly raised his hands, palms out, in an appeasing gesture as he backed away.

 

The Dark Sentinel was now in total control, making Jim one of the most dangerous people alive. His emotions were all fixated on his guide. Someone would pay for the distress they had caused his guide. Thank God Verner had the presence of mind to call me. Jim started pacing again; the mere idea of Blair, in his current condition, back in the hands of the GDP was enough to send him into Blessed Protector overdrive.

 

The "storm warning" had gone out before Jim had arrived and most of the other detectives had found other things to do that did not include looking at or going near the sentinel/guide pairing. One of them ignored the good advice of her colleagues.

 

Detective Jenny Hunter moved toward Ellison carefully. A new arrival to the Major Crimes Department, and the only female detective currently assigned, she knew herself to be a good cop. She was put out that she hadn't been permanently assigned a partner yet and she had been looking at Jim Ellison with interest on many levels. "Er... Jim, I tracked down the APB and ..." she glanced over at Bank's office.

 

"And..." Hunter had only thought she knew what impatience sounded like before the sentinel snapped the single word at her.

 

"The phone connection was bad but it was Detective Martin Evans."

 

Jim Ellison went from calm to ballistic in one second flat. Then arms wrapped around him and he could feel his guide trying to calm him down. Habit, from the time when anger served as protection against life, called to him to break free so that he could vent but the newly born instinct to care for his guide was stronger. He felt the slender hand fluttering over his arm and down his shoulder and for one instant was irritated. Then anger was replaced by an awareness of his guide's needs. He gathered the younger man against him and half-carried/half-supported him to the sentinel suite. In his anger, he had forgotten that Blair was in shock, Jim could see it in the ocean blue eyes that were having trouble staying open. What he needed, what they needed, was to settle into their linkage.

 

Jenny watched as the sentinel left the bullpen with his guide. She leaned back against the desk, an acquisitive light in her eyes as they rested on Ellison's tall form. She was mentally preparing her request for Ellison as a partner when a woman's voice brought her head around.

 

"Forget it, lady, there are already two in that partnership," stated a laconic alto voice.

 

Hunter responded acidly to the caution. "Jim Ellison needs a real partner, not just a guide, but someone who can watch his back for him."

 

"If he did, that place is also already filled." There was a calm assurance to the words that made Hunter angry.

 

Jenny looked the speaker up and down, a long way up and down. A tall woman, at least six feet, lounged against Ellison's desk. Her long hair was twisted up in a French plait out of the way, her clothes were smart but casual, everything about her screamed competence and confidence. Standing beside her was a younger man whose hand rested casually on her shoulder. Another sentinel and guide pairing, I would think one would be enough for any department!

 

"And you are?" Jenny spoke in the sure knowledge that she belonged in Major Crime not this woman who acted as if she owned the place.

 

"Lisa Pais, this is my partner, Karl Faulkner."

 

Karl grinned as he nodded to the detective. Before coming in contact with Jim Ellison, Lisa had always referred to him as her guide, even addressed him as such in private. Since meeting the Senior Sentinel Prime, Lisa had openly treated him as if he was a member of a team, not just some sort of animated tool. The Dark Pair was indeed making a difference. Karl looked around the bullpen. His eye happened to catch that of a well-dressed detective. The young man smiled at him and Karl returned it. This station was so much better than the last one where Lisa had been stationed. By and large, the personnel working here tended to at least tolerate him and many were openly friendly. There were a few who made no effort to hide their dislike for him and all he stood for, but it never got physical. He could settle in here.

 

"Sentinel." Jenny almost made the title sound like an insult. She stared challengingly at the female sentinel, not liking what she saw.

 

"That would be Detective First Grade, Ms...?" Pais' said smoothly.

 

"Jenny Hunter, Detective, Major Crimes." Take that, you interloper! Unfortunately, the sentinel just looked bored.

 

"Huh. Well, Ms Hunter, Major Crime, you might want to mark your card with this little bit of data and save yourself some grief. Sentinel Prime Ellison is my Clan Leader and off limits to you, lady." Lisa knew her smile was pure predator and was counting on Ms Major Crime to get a clue as to where she stood.

 

Karl ran his hand over his sentinel's shoulder and forearm. Lisa's aggression level was going through the roof and an explosion was imminent if he couldn't cool things down. Female sentinels had a possessive nature where males were concerned and rivals were not tolerated. He hadn't realized that Lisa was attracted to Ellison but that had to be the reason for her current display. He made a mental note to speak to Blair the next time he saw the younger guide. If their sentinels started to get close then they, as guides, would have their hands full. Sentinel-Sentinel relationships were always volatile and God help anyone caught in the fallout of a disagreement.

 

Jenny was about to answer the Detective First Grade's challenge when another female voice cut in; the tone was icy cold and there was a hard edge of ownership to her words, "I already have prior claim to James Ellison, ladies, so don't get in my way." Hunter and Pais both turned to look at the elegant dark-haired woman standing behind them. Both of them identified the head of Forensics, Lieutenant Carolyn Plummer, before she turned on her heel and walked away leaving them both staring daggers at her departing back.

 

Oh my, he and Blair certainly needed to talk. A couple of poor hapless males did not want to get caught in the crossfire of those three ladies! Only when Jenny followed Plummer's example and left did Karl breathe a sigh of relief. Too soon as it turned out. The young GQ dressed detective who had smiled at him earlier was walking up to his sentinel.

 

"Hello, Ms Pais." Rafe had taken a liking to the female sentinel during that mess with the conference and, what the hell, he was willing to chance his luck.

 

"Rafe, isn't it?" Hmm, not overly friendly but she didn't bite my head off and she remembered my name.

 

"Yes, Lisa... I can call you Lisa?" Without waiting for an answer, Rafe went on, "Look, I'm off duty at 6:00 and I know you're new to this part of town. Perhaps we, I mean the three of us could go for a meal, nothing grand. Just someplace local so I can fill you in on the precinct." Rafe was careful to include Karl in the invitation to show that he was aware that Lisa would want to take her guide with her. Jim certainly was loath to part with his guide.

 

"It could be just the two of us, Rafe. Karl will be okay at the apartment." Lisa dismissed her guide casually and then seemed to take a deep breath. Rafe had offered to fill them in on the precinct. Karl was now a member of the precinct just as she was. The attitude that her guide could be parked somewhere as if he had no stake in matters would not exactly endear her to Jim Ellison. And if she were honest with herself, she admitted that it felt wrong now. "On the other hand, if you really don't mind I'm sure Karl would be interested as well." Rafe smiled. "No, Lisa, I don't mind. I know that sentinels and guides come as a matched set."

 

Lisa returned his smile gently and covered Karl's hand with her own. It was hard to remember to include Karl in things after several years at her previous station. There she had routinely left Karl behind because her colleagues objected to his presence. All too vividly she remembered returning from one date to find Karl in a near catatonic state from overload because she had been too caught up with her current boyfriend to get home on time. That would never happen again. She had begun to value the younger man for more than just sensory control.

 

Daryl had watched the comings and goings in the bullpen with fascination. He was no longer upset or impatient with his father's longer than promised absence. In fact, as he saw his father enter Major Crime he was sorry that the show was over as far as he was concerned. He scurried back to his chair, convinced that he didn't want his father to know he had been spying on his department. Daryl had just settled and powered on the game when his Dad walked in.

 

"Sorry, son, that got a bit more complicated than I expected. Do you mind just sitting in the break room for a few minutes while I speak to Detective Evans? This shouldn't take long."

 

"Sure, Dad." Simon smiled his thanks, unaware of the thought already starting to take root in his son's mind. He did wonder a bit at the expression of surprise that crossed the teen's face when he issued a cautionary note, "Daryl, keep away from Detective Ellison. His guide has been hurt and I don't want to scrape you off the walls. Okay?"

 

"Sure, Dad. I won't do anything stupid." As Daryl left Martin Evans passed him on his way into Simon's office. Simon polished his glasses as he let the detective stand in front of his desk until he was ready to acknowledge his presence.

 

"Detective Evans, why did you issue an ABP on Detective Ellison's vehicle?" Simon would have sworn that Evans was surprised at the question.

 

"I did no such thing. This is the first I've heard about it." Evans added quickly, "Why would I do it anyway?"

 

"Ellison told me that you pulled Sandburg over at Rainier and frisked him." Simon kept his voice neutral.

 

"Hey, Captain, I was just doing my job. The kid's a student and a wannabe hippie. They're all into drugs there. Just because he's Ellisons property doesn't give him a free pas..."

 

"Stop right there, Evans, and listen really good to what I'm about to tell you. Sandburg is Ellison's guide NOT his property. He's a person. Entitled to as much respect as you or I, maybe more. If I hear that you have been harassing him, your Captain and I are going to talk. Leave the kid alone, he doesn't need any more grief on top of what life's dished out already."

 

Evans exhaled, obviously reining in a too ready temper. "Look, Captain, I don't like Ellison, period. Okay, I jumped on the guide but he was one of a bunch of students I stopped. I never asked for an APB on him or the truck. You can ask my partner, Griffin. I never left the office since I got in at 11:00 a.m. and all my phone calls were made from the monitored desk set. Check with Grif, he will confirm this. I may not like sentinels and guides but I am a professional."

 

Simon looked at the man. His gut feeling was that the man was telling the truth. "Then I suggest you keep out of their way until we get this sorted out." Simon got up and went to the door of his office and bellowed, "Rafe!"

 

"Captain?"

 

"Go down to Vice and talk to Detective Griffin, I want to know exactly what he and his partner were doing this morning." Looking over his shoulder, he strongly suggested to Evans, "You won't mind waiting, will you?"

 

"No, sir."

 

As Evans took a seat out in the bullpen, Simon's mind turned to his sentinel/ guide pairing and he decided to check up on them. Experience, and Sentinel 102, told him to wait outside the suite. As he watched, the cautionary light came on and the sentinel suite opened. Jim Ellison came out, alone.

 

"Jim, where's Sandburg?" Simon's voice showed his concern.

 

"He's asleep at the moment. Look, Captain, I heard Evans. What did he...." Jim's words trailed off. "He's stirring." Ellison quickly went back into the suite. Simon followed and watched as the sentinel lay down on the platform and spooned up behind his guide. One brawny arm went around the younger man's waist and pulled him gently back against him. Ellison's voice was so soft, Simon couldn't make out the words but they were answered with a low moan. Blair's hand came up and closed around his sentinel's wrist, pulling it up against his heart. Shivers were still racking the small body sheltered in Ellison's embrace but they were gradually calming.

 

Simon shifted, uncomfortable with the intimacy of the scene.

 

Jim didn't even look around as he said softly, "He needs this, Simon, every bit as much as if he'd been caught out in a blizzard and needed to share body heat to prevent hypothermia. We need this, I could have lost him, Simon." His tone announced, live with it or leave us alone. Simon preferred to ignore the situation and get right down to business.

 

"Rafe checked out Evans personally. He has a rock solid alibi, Jim. He didn't put out the APB but whoever did knew his name and call sign. I checked on the woman driver, tell Blair she is going to be okay. The kid really did save her life, if she had hit the intersection at the bottom of that hill... The driver of the other car is in holding, his blood alcohol was twice over the limit."

 

"I'll tell Sandburg and thanks, Simon." Simon wasn't quite sure what he was being thanked for... passing on the news or managing to ignore his discomfort to do so. Before he left the suite, Simon turned for one last look at the two men. He thought about Jim's simile, sharing body heat in an emergency; all of a sudden it didn't seem that strange to see the young guide tucked in tightly against his sentinel. I guess the soul can freeze as much as the body if one is an empath.

 

Jim centered himself with a deep breath just as the younger man had coached him. He tuned his senses into Blair Sandburg and allowed himself to slide deep into the bond.

 

Coming out of the suite, Simon nearly bumped into his son and his face darkened. There was nothing this far down this particular corridor except the Sentinel Suite. Banks caught his son's arm in a firm grip and frog marched him back to his office.

 

"What the hell do you think you're playing at, Daryl?" He tried to keep his voice level.

 

"Nothing, Dad, I was only...."

 

"You were going to try and watch the bonding, Daryl. I'm a captain of detectives and your father. You are so transparent, so don't lie to me, young man."

 

"You promised I could talk to them, yet you won't let me near them. You said..." The whine that Banks hated was back in his son's voice. He strove for calm.

 

"Daryl, they are not some performing animals put here for your entertainment. These are people. Living, breathing people with the same feelings and rights that you and I have. Jim may have five enhanced senses, but he's still the same Jim Ellison that I have always known." Simon thought a moment, a wry smile pulled at his lips as he shrugged and continued, "Okay, the kid's improved his attitude but he's still the same cop. Right now, you're coming with me. Blair is hurting, Jim is upset and there is no way we are discussing this here." Banks almost dragged his son along. He stopped briefly at Rhonda's desk to inform her that he was taking his son home and would be back.

 

Daryl was fuming. This was all the guide's fault. Each time he tried to get to the sentinel it was the guide that got in the way. And now his father was dragging him out of Major Crime as if he were some kid that couldn't be trusted to stay out of trouble. Huh, he's just a dumb guide and Dad's taking his part over mine! It wasn't fair!


	7. Chapter 7

The morning was not going well for Jim Ellison and he didn't care who knew it. A call from the garage said the truck would not be repaired for several days. His insurance company was threatening to raise his premiums yet again and would only pay for a cheap rental car while the truck was fixed. The other members of Major Crimes kept their distance from the seething sentinel. Except for the youngest and most unofficial member of them all. Not for the first time did Rafe and H. marvel at the way the guide seemed to be oblivious of the sentinel's anger. It was as if he was immune to it... maybe he was. Everyone in the bullpen breathed a sigh of relief when Ellison slammed down the phone and snarled, "Let's go pick out a lemon, Chief. If we're lucky it will have all four tires and a brake that works!" Sandburg laughed at his aggrieved tone and everyone waited for the explosion. Ellison confounded them all by landing a gentle swat to the back of a curly head and chuckling along with the kid. The two men exited Major Crime bantering back and forth as if the dour detective had never heard of bad days.

Jim's playful mood lasted through the first three vehicles they looked at. He viewed the fourth vehicle with disgust and kicked the tires. This was their last option and Ellison knew it.

Blair was bouncing from one foot to the other. "Well, at least the colors tasteful."

"Sandburg, do you have a death wish? If you don't shut up..."

"Hey, it could have been worse. Like, you could have had to take the pink Nissan he showed us."

"I am going to kill him and no court would convict me."

The garage mechanic was about to say something and then took a closer look at the detective muttering under his breath and the young hippie who was ignoring him. He did a U-turn; life was just too short to get involved in this.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The car pulled to halt at the parking lot closest to Hargrove Hall with a rattle and what sounded like a terminal clunk. "There's no need to take me to the door, Jim, I can find my own way. You called Harris and reported me in so that won't be a problem. You can head back to work now."

Blair saw Ellison's jaw tighten and practically heard his teeth grind. His sentinel was not going to be talked out of this course of action; he was going to be walked to the door like it or not.

A young woman Jim remembered as being present when Blair had been harassed by the GDP in his office hurried up as soon as they entered the building. "Blair, I'm so sorry. I just heard about your office."

"Carol? What about my office?" Sandburg was immediately tense.

"It was broken into last night."

Blair took off at a run, his sentinel right behind him. The door to the office opened with a push and his jaw dropped. The small office had graffiti sprayed all over the walls. SLAVES OBEY THEIR MASTERS. GUIDE WHORE. RAINIER IS NOT FOR PERVERTS.

Jim's hand dropped onto Blair's shoulders, ready to support his guide if the kid folded under this latest attack. His hand was shrugged off and he was surprised to hear a stream of obscenity from his guide in four dead languages, three living ones, and not a repeat in any of them. The kid wasn't scared; he was royally pissed, and Jim was glad to see, or was that hear, it.

"This...crap... Jim, is going to end. Now. It has to be someone close to me who can see what I am doing, when I won't be here...Oh gods, what if its one of ... one of my students?" For the first time, his voice was edged with distress. He clamped down on it, knelt and began to pull his papers together. Jim started to straighten the furniture, all senses alert for some indication as to who had trashed his guide's office. It soon became clear that only the papers belonging to his guide had been vandalised, nothing else was harmed. Jim reached out with his senses and started coughing. Blair was at his side instantly, "Jim, man, what is it?"

"There's ~cough~ some sort of chemical ~cough~ in here. Screwing up my senses."

"Turn them down, Jim. Come on, man. Listen to your guide..." Blair used the same tone Ellison always used on the occasions when he urged his guide to "listen to your sentinel."

"Chief, we need to figure out ~cough~ who did this..."

Blair said firmly, "Not at risk of your senses. Besides, Jim, we already know one thing about the perps." He hid his own smile as Ellison grinned at his use of cop slang.

"What's that, Chief?" Ellison knew, he just wondered if the kid had figured it out as well.

"They know how to derail a sentinel without risking anyone else's health."

Ellison swatted his guide's head gently. "I'll make a detective out of you yet, kid."

There was a knock on the door and two Campus security guards came in. The smaller one looked at his notebook. "Guide Sandburg?" his tone was one of disgust.

"Yes." Blair stayed calm.

"A Carol Reeves called in an incident of vandalism in this office. Was any University property damaged?"

"No. It looks like the damage is confined to my work. I..." Before he could finish, the smaller guard interrupted.

"We'll write it up, but if nothing's been damaged its not really worth the...."

Sandburg felt heat mount into his face as his work was dismissed as "nothing." He opened his mouth to protest but Ellison got there first.

"Get out." Two words only but said with all the force of a dark sentinel.

The campus guards spun around in shocked dismay. They had been so focused on the guide that they had missed the sentinel standing next to an artifact rack.

"And you are?" The larger guard took over the questioning.

"Detective James Ellison, Cascade PD. I will make sure that Nancy Hong knows all about your sterling work on campus and the fair way you treat all faculty and students." His tone said he would be reporting the exact opposite.

"Ellison? You're his ...." "Sentinel," Jim confirmed, "and I don't take kindly to people jerking my guide around. Either you find who did this or I will."

"You have no right...." The larger guard's already red face got even redder as he tried to bluster his way past the detective's threat.

"This badge gives me the right to enforce the law in the entire city of Cascade. Unless Rainier has recently become a principality, it's in my jurisdiction. Do your job and we'll get along fine. Don't make me come looking for you. Oh, and according to Doctor Woodward, the correct title for my guide on campus is Mister. I suggest you use it."

The Campus guards backed down as they suddenly realised this was more than just a cop talking; this was a sentinel.

"Okay, Gui... Mister Sandburg, what can you tell me about the break in?"

Jim settled back, listening carefully to the byplay. After a rocky start, they were doing it by the book. He still planned to have a chat with Nancy. She owed him and he would collect if it would keep his guide safe from harassment. At least these two clowns would behave in the future. Ellison nodded as they respectfully took their leave of his guide. Jim studied the younger man, wondering what was going on in the brilliantly quirky mind under the wild curls. He leaned toward his guide as Blair turned to look at him, sadness in the dark blue eyes as he spoke.

"It's the thought that they're watching me, Jim, waiting for me to fail, wanting the GDP to drag me out of here leashed like some sort of animal." Blair finally put into words what he was thinking. "Some of them look at me as if I were some sort of freak. They're scared to even talk to me, afraid that I'm going to read them." He looked straight into Jim's eyes, "I couldn't, wouldn't deliberately do that. But sometimes...half the time, I have a hard time just holding their emotions at bay."

Jim reached out a hand and was concerned when Blair pulled back.

"Maybe if I didn't need to connect so much maybe they would... Before, no one even knew that I was an empath, I hid it so well. I did hide it, Jim, only a very few people even suspected. I still don't know how Alex found..." He looked over and saw confusion on his sentinel's face. Suddenly, it was as if a cold bucket of water was dashed over him as he realized just how selfish he was being when he pulled away from his sentinel. It was no longer just him; it was them. The sentinel needed the reassurance of touch just as he needed the shielding. In denying what he was, he was denying what Jim was as well. He could not do that.

He stepped over to his sentinel and rested his hand on a muscular arm. "Sorry, Jim. I didn't mean... I mean, I'm just upset, man."

"Chief, this has to be just an ignorant few. You haven't been having any other trouble." Something shifted in his guide's eyes before they looked away. "Have you?" When he got no answer, Ellison pushed again. "Have any of your students harassed or threatened you, Chief?" Jim tried to keep his voice level.

"Not really, Jim. A few comments now and then, that's all. Its not like I haven't heard them before, and they're not exactly unique to here either."

"Meaning what, Chief?"

Oops, by the look in Ellison's eyes he had slipped up there. Blair shrugged, trying to make light of the issue. "Hey, man, it's public knowledge that I'm a guide and not everyone likes the idea of a guide at University."

Jim noticed the slight flush to his guide's face. "Blair, have you..."

The guide tried to walk away but a strong hand caught him and pulled him back. A warm, compassionate voice said gently, "Talk to me, Blair. You need to say it and I need to hear it." Wow, "Blair" twice in a row. He must be worried. It made him feel good that his sentinel cared enough to worry.

"Okay, Jim. There's a few students, undergrads, that don't like the fact I'm a guide. I hear them, they make sure I do. Stuff like *the only good guide is on his knees.* That sort of thing. A bit of *accidental* pushing and shoving, nothing much." Blair met Jim's worried eyes. "I'm here to stay for good, Jim, until I get those three letters after my name. They'll just have to learn to live with me." There was power in that last sentence spoken with a touch of the dark guide's menacing growl.

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Jim was putting books back on the shelf behind the desk. His hand lightly brushed over Sandburg's prized copy of "The Sentinel" by Richard Burton, enjoying the smooth tactile feel of the old leather. He smiled as he heard Blair's voice from memory explaining "the explorer not the actor." Behind him Blair was muttering over a pile of blue books, debating whether it was worth it to try to reconstruct them or just go ahead and give another quiz.

"Hi, Blair."

Blair turned to the new voice and grinned broadly. He walked over and was pulled into a hug by the newcomer. "Hey, Leo. Man, it's good to see you. Thanks for the help back there, it really worked."

"Any time kid." Kessler carefully kept his emotions keyed into friendship and a certain sense of protection. Sandburg was sharp and didn't need to be picking up any negative emotions from him. The kid was already under enough pressure as it was. He released his hold on the smaller man as he realized that someone was looming over him. He turned slowly.

"Senior Sentinel Prime James Ellison, this is Leo Kessler, an old University friend of mine. Leo, my sentinel, Jim Ellison." Kessler and Ellison both heard the pride in Blair's voice when he referred to "my sentinel."

Jim looked Leo up and down slowly, his senses wrapping around the man. Kessler was in his late 20s and looked like he spent a lot of time in the weight room. He was almost as tall as Jim, with artfully tousled hair and a cynical air that Jim thought made him an unlikely friend for his exuberant guide.

"Huh, So he's a friend of yours, Chief?" Ellison's voice was neutral.

Blair had seen Ellison more friendly. Jim's reaction to Leo was so cool, he couldn't understand what was wrong with his sentinel. "Uh, yeah, Jim. I knew him when I was working on my MA."

Jim hadn't liked the way Kessler's heartbeat had sped up the moment he touched Blair. His instincts screamed that Leo Kessler would endanger his guide and that must not happen.

Leo smiled. "I best be going. See you later, Blair."

"Jim, what's the matter?" Blair didn't expect Jim to like all his friends but Jim's reaction went beyond mere dislike.

"Keep away from him, Chief."

"I..."

"Just do it." That was the command roar of a Dark Sentinel.

"What's wrong, Jim?" Something was, Blair could read the sense of danger pouring off his sentinel.

Ellison took a deep breath. He was always telling Sandburg that he was an equal. One did not order an equal to stay away from friends without an explanation. Only Jim didn't have one.

"Chief, Blair, how long have you known Kessler?"

Blair shrugged. "Like I said, I knew him when I was working on my MA."

"You good friends?"

"We've had a beer or two. Leo...ah... helped me out before ... Alex..."

Jim heard his guide's heart rate speed up as it always did at mention of Barnes. "You mean he helped you hide from the GDP?"

"Sheesh, Jim. I didn't say that!"

"Did you ever read him, Blair?" Ellison was pushing and he didn't know why.

"No, way, Jim. I was keeping everything pretty well locked down all the time. You know, so that no one would get any ideas. Besides that kind of thing made Leo uncomfortable so I was always careful around him."

"What did you get from him this time?" Ellison didn't like the frown the kid turned on him as he continued the questioning, but Sandburg answered.

"He was happy to see me. Glad that I was okay. I'll bet he has a bet on with somebody about whether or not I get my doctorate though." Sandburg chuckled as he said that. A raised eyebrow from his sentinel prompted him to go on, "Leo was always making bets with somebody about something, or with anybody about anything. When I hugged him I got the sense that I'm tied up with profit.... Pretty flattering, in a way, because I know Leo wouldn't bet against me and he wouldn't bet for me if he didn't think he could win. Hey, Jim, I'll take my support wherever I can find it."

"I'm sure, Sandburg. But, just stay away from him, okay?" Ellison couldn't explain why he didn't want his guide anywhere near Kessler. He just didn't. When Jim was like this, Blair knew it was no good arguing. He'd just have to ask Jim about it later when things had quieted down some.

"I'll go and see if the janitor's got any cleaning liquid, okay?" Blair dodged the question of whether he would see Leo Kessler again.

"Okay." Jim's tone was neutral, not a good sign.

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Jim Ellison took the steps to the loft at an easy jog, as usual the elevator was out of order. His head tilted to one side as he inhaled the aroma of his guide's dinner preparations. The kid was a surprisingly good cook although his idea of healthy was Jim's idea of uneatable. Fungus, in his estimation, should remain in the woods not on the plate. Fortunately, he didn't *not* recognize anything in the smells that were making his mouth water. Jim slowed as he saw the Sanders' come out of their apartment. Only a short time ago he would have breezed past them with a curt nod of the head, if that. The man he was now stopped and his smile wasn't forced when he greeted them. The older couple had helped him when his guide was hurting and sick. Jim didn't know what he would have done if Mrs. Sanders hadn't taken one look at Blair shuddering in his hold and mother-henned them. Since that night, what had begun as an errand of mercy had developed into friendship.

"Hello, Hetty, Jonathan. Don't forget about dinner next week."

Mrs. Sanders smiled gently at him. "No fear of that, dear. We're looking forward to it."

Jim grinned and joked, "You can say that because you don't have any idea just what Sandburg considers food!"

Jonathan schooled his face into an expression of seriousness. "He promised me I'd recognize it." Jim laughed and started back up the stairwell. He shook his head. If he kept on like this, his reputation as *Stoneface Ellison* was going to go by the board. He discovered that, to his surprise, he didn't care. For the first time in his life he was allowing himself to respond to people. His good mood was put on hold as he entered the loft. As soon as he opened the door, Jim knew that something was up. He could smell the food cooking, nothing unusual there, but his guide's heart had suddenly started to beat faster the minute he saw Jim. Sandburg was bouncing even more than usual, if that was possible, and he was talking a mile a minute. Jim made an effort to tune him in and caught the last bit before Blair ran out of steam... "two weeks at Croxley Meadows archaeological site."

Ellison fished a beer out of the fridge for himself and handed his guide a soft drink. Blair waved it away, his eyes never leaving his sentinel. Jim could feel the younger man waiting for the answer to the question he didn't quite catch. He took a deep pull of his drink and prepared to pay close attention.

"Okay, Chief, from the top again and, this time, try to breathe once in a while."

"Carol Reeves, remember me telling you about her, you met her at Rainier, great girl, not an old girlfriend just a friend..." Blair trailed off as Jim waved him quiet. "Just cut to the chase, Chief."

"Well... well, you said I could choose where we went for our vacation, remember, when we were at the Sanctuary, remember?" Blair was nervous, if his run-on sentences hadn't told Jim that, the change in his guide's breathing would have. He nodded to reassure his guide that he remembered.

"Well, she was in my office today and she... well, reminded me that she'd invited me to go on an archaeological dig at Croxley Meadows. It's a fantastic site, man, its going to rival anything they've found in Peru. It's only for two weeks but I know I can't leave you and you did say that we could go once you've talked to Simon and I can..."

"Back up, Chief." Jim's tone was more commanding. At this rate the kid was going to go into a full anxiety attack. Ellison hoped that the firm tone might steady his guide, but he swore silently as he saw fear in his guide's face. Fear that he might have overstepped some invisible line. Ellison smiled, "Easy, Chief. Now, then, Carol invited you to this Croxley place, huh?"

Sandburg bobbed his head and added in a rush of words, "Yeah, but Doctor Welland, the site director, has said that I can go *and* take you with me! It's really an honor, man, places on the team are in very short supply." The anthropologist pulled back into himself, the words dying on his lips as he noted his sentinel's stern face. Great, Sandburg, just great! Talking about taking Ellison with me as if I had a choice in the matter. Jim's a great guy but he is a sentinel and I am a guide. He's supposed to determine what we do, not me!

Jim frowned as he saw the younger man pale and saw the worried thoughts flashing through the expressive blue eyes. He walked through to the living room with Blair trailing behind him. Jim took a mental deep breath, thinking about spending two weeks with students...

Before Sandburg came along, he had joked along with the rest of the detectives about the long-haired hippie wannabes with their weird clothes and weirder ideas. He was even more abashed when he remembered his reaction to Detective Evans doing just that thing. The *new* Ellison hadn't liked it a bit when he'd heard about Sandburg's run-in with the vice cop.

Jim sighed and took another swallow of beer. It just illustrated how the young grad student had changed his viewpoint. But then again, Sandburg had an unbeatable advantage. In a three-piece suit, a pink bunny suit, or his second hand clothes, Blair was his guide and nothing like mere externals mattered anymore. Still, Jim took yet another swallow of beer, his gut reaction was to say no. One small word and he could switch on the TV and catch the Jag's game and not have to put up with an enthusiastic anthropologist now or later.

But ...

When Ellison thought over what had happened to his guide in just the last month, their bonding, that unbonded sentinel kidnapping him, the head injury that ... he slammed the door shut on that memory. Don't go there. The kid had settled in with him and was showing a nesting instinct, thank God. Jim no longer wondered if he'd wake up one day and find the kid had run. Sandburg no longer went down on his knees if he raised his voice at him but Ellison knew that there was still a long way to go before Blair was the man he'd been before the GDP. It was a small thing to pay back Blair for all he did for his sentinel... but, all the same, two weeks of archaeology students... Jim remembered the promise of a vacation he'd made Blair before the Sentinel Conference and the way the kid had lit up. He couldn't disappoint him now, and wouldn't the guys down at the precinct get a laugh out of that! Nope, he couldn't do that to the kid...two weeks was only fourteen days after all what could happen on an archaeological site in fourteen days?

"Okay, Chief, I'll speak to Simon tomorrow about time off. When would..."

Blair cut across him. "I know you don't like the idea, but..." His expression was almost comical as his mind caught up with his hearing. "What did you say, Jim?"

"I said I would speak to Simon tomorrow and see if I can get the time off. It shouldn't be a problem. I'm owed some vacation. I'll need the dates before then, Chief."

"I've got them right here. It's next month. Carol's going to go with us. It will be great, Jim. You haven't met her properly, not to talk to, I mean. She's really special, man, it's a pity people don't see that." He caught the look on Jim's face and reddened. "Talking too much, right?"

"It's okay, Chief, I'm interested. This dig, what's so special about it? It another KV5 or something?"

"KV5? Wow, I'm impressed, Jim. I thought, well, I thought..."

"My reading matter started and finished with Tom Clancy and Clive Cussler? You underestimate me, Junior. I read that book by Kent Weeks on the Lost Tomb of the Valley of the Kings, it's quite a classic." The sentinel shifted under his guide's keen look. "Okay, it said that on the dust jacket... and you did keep leaving it around the loft... actually it was quite interesting."

"I wondered where it got to." Blair smiled happily, accepting Ellison's foray into archaeological reading as an effort to share his guide's world. "Not another KV5 but all the early findings seem to indicate that it could be similar to sites found in Mexico and Peru. If they can substantiate that it would really put this site on the map! You know what's really neat about it, Jim? It was found by accident..."

Jim settled in, his guide had gone straight into academic mode and he was in for a lecture. Well, he'd started it. One thing about Blair, he could always make it sound interesting. No wonder his students enjoyed his lectures so much. Ellison would not shut him up for the world. He liked to hear his guide chatter non-stop, seeing it as a sign that he was reclaiming his old self, and that Jim liked to encourage.

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Simon looked up from the papers he was working on as Jim knocked on the door and came into the office. The detective looked slightly uncomfortable, he just knew what his Captain's reaction would be after he made his request. He wasn't wrong. The sentinel just settled back to let the Captain get it out of his system.

"You on an archaeological dig... who do you think you are? The sentinel Indiana Jones?" Simon's tried to speak gruffly but the humor in the situation kept breaking through.

"Simon, this is important to Sandburg. It's an honor that he's even being offered a place. After all he's been through, I think he needs this. God knows he deserves it after what I put him through." Jim's tone indicated that he was willing to argue to get this if need be.

For a long moment, Simon just looked at his best detective and friend pondering how, in such a short time, he had changed so markedly. Simon knew the answer, even if he still had trouble believing it. The kid, Sandburg, had come in like a whirlwind and thrown Ellison's life into confusion. Yet Jim was emerging from the chaos a better man. The ex-black ops loner was slowly being pushed back with an almost friendly team player replacing him. Simon grinned a bit, *iceberg* Ellison was still in there and God help you if you crossed him or his guide. Still, on the whole, he was reacting better to the other officers and although they had always respected him, Rafe, Brown and even Taggart were actually getting to like him. Hell, even Rhonda will get within a yard of Ellison without a direct order; he must be improving. And all because of a neo-hippie grad student who just happened to be the guide... and maybe the friend... Ellison needed. Jim seemed happy living in the Sandburg zone, and no one was going to complain, his arrest stats were the best in the department. Simon knew what the answer to Jim's request had to be.

He kept Jim hanging for a moment, then said, "Well, it's your vacation. Send me a post card, or whatever archaeologists do."

"Thanks, Simon." Ellison actually cracked a smile.

Simon waved him away. "Don't you have work to do, Detective?"

Jim grinned and left his office leaving the captain to contemplate his sentinel and guide. Jim wasn't the only one changing for the better. Or maybe, Simon thought, changing back in Sandburg's case. The battered and terrified young empath that had been dragged into the precinct in restraints was turning into a capable, courageous man who routinely gave a 110% to everything he did. Jim Ellison was a big part of that transformation...


	8. Chapter 8

Daryl Banks was excited. His placement had come through and for three whole weeks he was going to be mixing with the GDP officers and guards at Rainier University and shadowing a group of GDP scholarship students on campus. He had been welcomed easily by some of the students, especially after he had told them that his father had a sentinel working for him. So far he had been to two lectures and lunch and the week was just beginning!

The teenager let his eyes roam over the campus; in a few years he might be one the students hurrying across the grounds. Out of the corner of his eyes he studied the group standing around the fountain in front of Hargrove Hall. He had been wary of them at first, they were all so much older than he was and he suspected they knew he had a bit of a crush on Robin Newman. But she was being so nice to him and wouldn't let the others tease him. It was to her that he had confided that Blair was a guide. He was a bit put out that they had already known that but they had no idea that Sandburg was in trouble with the GDP. When he had let it slip to Robin, she had listened with flattering attention to whatever he had to say. He had been so glad to have someone listen to him after the way his Dad had blown up over the placement, that he told her everything he had heard about Sandburg while hanging around the station. That had been his *in* with the group and he meant to make the most of it. Some of them were GDP scholarship students and Robin had promised to tell him the best way to qualify for one.

He would show his dad that he had what it took to be a member of the GDP. His mom and dad would be so proud of him if he got a scholarship! He had been excited but uneasy when he heard they had broken into the guide's office and trashed it. It had been a buzz to know that the guide had gotten just what he deserved. The little voice that whispered that his father wouldn't approve of vandalism was silenced when Robin explained that they had only touched the guide's stuff. Robin had explained to him that he had to be put in his rightful place and this would be a warning. Guides are supposed to be with their sentinels, helping them, not out playing student or teacher. Daryl felt righteous satisfaction when he mentally repeated what Robin had said. It made him feel good that they were including him in on this next action. Then again, they wouldn't have known about the restriction if he hadn't told them. He had every right to be included. This would teach the guide. Daryl couldn't wait. If this worked, the guide would be back with his sentinel where he belonged and maybe then the sentinel would be willing to talk to him.

Blair was at his desk checking over the proposed topics that his students had submitted for their Anthro 101 paper. It was a mixed lot at best; some he could just scribble an OK on and others called for a detailed explanation as to why the topic wouldn't work. Too broad... too narrow... where did this come from?...He pushed his glasses back up on his nose and reached for his cup of tea. Too late he realised that the supposedly hot drink was ice cold. Ever since the incident when he had been drugged, he had brought in bottled water to make his own tea. It helped alleviate the irrational fear of it happening again that was ever with him but it meant that he couldn't just grab the always-steaming water in the common room. He shrugged and decided to drink it as it was, not wanting to take the time to heat up some water. He was lucky that his student appointments had cancelled on him, at the rate he was getting through the papers he could be at the station an hour earlier... Blair was lost in thought, trying to puzzle out exactly what Jerry meant, when the phone rang. He jumped, startled, and made a grab for the handset, the cup went flying and his attempt to keep his tea from spilling only sent the phone after it. By the time he got himself sorted out, his "hello" was breathless.

"Chief, you okay?" Blair smiled at the concern in Ellison's voice. It hadn't even been two full months yet but Blair already knew that if he had to have a sentinel, Ellison was the one he wanted.

"Fine, Jim, just trying to do two things at once." Ellison extended his hearing and heard the sound of someone mopping up spilled liquid. He grinned as he thought of his guide's reaction to his news.

"Book the tickets. I got the time off." Yep, there it goes, heart rate through the roof and... yep, there go the chair springs!

"That great! I can't wait to tell Carol!" Jim's grin widened. He could all but see, as well as hear, his partner bouncing. "See you tonight, Jim. I'll get the data on the dig for you, it won't hurt for you to see the site before we get there, I wonder if you can detect the difference in the soil coloring and if we can use that to find..."

"Chief...., Chief...... BLAIR!" Silence and then a meek,

"Yes, Jim?"

"See you tonight. Don't forget to breathe." With a grin, Jim put the phone down.

Blair heard the door to his office open. He swiveled around on his chair and his smile faded. Guards Knight and Cameron entered his office as if they owned it.

"Hi." He winced at how lame he sounded.

"Guide Sandburg, you are under arrest. You will come with us now to the Rainier station. If you resist you will be leashed."

"What did I do wrong?" Sandburg was honestly puzzled and not a little frightened.

Knight shook his head and began to undo the leash he wore around his waist.

Immediately, Blair went onto his knees, head down low in the extreme position. "My apologies for questioning you, sirs."

Cameron shook his head. "I don't see a need for the leash, Terry. Okay, Guide, on your feet"

The two GDP guards flanked the smaller empath as they left the office. Blair put everything he had into appearing cool and unworried. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to his predicament. At least they had allowed him to secure his office and take his backpack with him.

Daryl Banks watched as Blair Sandburg walked between two larger men. He looked cool but Daryl saw how hard he held onto his backpack and knew he was more nervous than he let on. The others thought it was funny; their only complaint being that the guide wasn't on the leash. Robin nudged him, "That was a good idea of yours, Daryl. How did you know about the restriction order?"

"Remember I told you my dad's his sentinel's Captain?" The youngster paused, did that sound right? "and I heard him talking to Ellison about it. He said that Blair... er, the guide... had 14 days of this curfew. I knew that if his student appointments were cancelled he should have been on his knees in the GDP office." Robin smiled at him and Daryl blushed at her approval as she said, " And since Ian and Xander and I were his appointments and we cancelled..." Daryl finished, "It was easy."

Xander grinned and hit him on the shoulder. "Nice work, kid, and the fun has just begun. Officer Dexter told us we can go to the station any time to observe what they do there. What say we do it now and see the little professor get put through his paces?"

"Yeah, why not?" Daryl tried to sound eager even if he felt uncomfortable with that idea for some reason he didn't want to examine too closely.  
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Lieutenant Harris looked at Trainee Officer King and held back a sigh. King was so delighted with himself for the prompt way he had dispatched Cameron and Knight to pick up Guide Sandburg for breaking restriction. Harris wasn't, but he could scarcely reprimand the man for following procedures. Now was not the ideal time to have a gung-ho trainee around. Harris was pretty sure that Sandburg hadn't meant to violate restriction, he had attended each and every break in his program when they occurred. More than likely he had forgotten that, with the cancellation of his appointments, he should have returned to the GDP office. He had probably just carried on working. Judging by the bulging backpack he hauled into the station every day, the young guide/student/teacher had more than enough work to keep him busy. He himself would have been inclined to just let it go... but someone had made it their business to tip the GDP off about the cancelled appointments. King had logged in the damn call so Sandburg had to be pulled in even though it made Harris feel as if he was doing someone's dirty work for them.

The two guards escorted their prisoner into the office. Harris took a deep breath as he saw the wariness in the deep blue eyes that briefly met his before staring at the floor. "Accept your punishment, Guide." Harris picked up a leash. The young guide took a step back, automatically looking around for a way out, an avenue of escape. Hell, not that! Don't run, kid, you'll only make things worse. The lieutenant hoped the empath could pick up the silent plea. He said again, in the calmest voice he could muster.

"Guide Sandburg, Accept your punishment." Harris had done some thinking about this guide and had come to certain conclusions. Now to see if he were right. "You do not want to make trouble for your sentinel." And just like that the flight instinct was overruled and Sandburg went down on his knees, his backpack hitting the floor.

Harris closed the distance between them until he knew that the guide could see his feet.

"Secure your hair, Guide." He kept his voice neutral, unthreatening. Behind him, Trainee King cut in, "Take the option away from the guide." The sound of a scissors opening and closing underscored his meaning. Harris swore softly to himself, he definitely needed to transfer Trainee Officer King!

"I covered the requirements of the Guide's restriction with his sentinel, Trainee Officer King. We will not deviate from that agreement." The lieutenant nodded in satisfaction as previously tight muscles relaxed somewhat in the kneeling form. That won't last long, he thought grimly.

Harris picked up bright red overalls from the table and threw them onto the floor. "Put that on, NOW."

"I was told.... Commander Slater said... I wouldn't have to wear these again." Harris found it difficult to ignore the plea in the young guide's voice but rules were rules...

"You are under punishment, Guide, you will wear them. You will remain in them for the day and tomorrow you will arrive here in them. Guard Knight will take you to the correction facility for a day's training; the arrangements have already been made." Harris winced as Sandburg's face lost what little color remained. The blue eyes held a distance in them that worried the GDP lieutenant.

"For speaking without permission, talking back at that, you will remain on your knees for the next hour." Harris fingered the leash, calming himself. A standard wrap with the larger leash would at least give the empath some movement in the restraints. There was something about this particular guide that was making Harris question everything he had learned about empaths... and how they should be treated.

Blair slowly stripped off his clothes, his shivering becoming worse by the moment. He heard Harris say quietly, "Leave on your shorts. You will not be harmed, Guide." Startled, he raised his eyes to the lieutenant's and read the truth of that statement. Surprised that the GDP officer had even noted, much less cared, about his fears, he nodded jerkily. At no time did Blair rise above hip high as he pulled on the correction overalls, trying to lessen his sense of exposure. Some of the "lessons" he had learned kept cutting in and it took all his control to push the panic away. He pushed his clothes into his backpack and his mind wandered, he had left some books he needed back at his office. His fingers ghosted over the soft flannel and he remembered the shopping trip with Jim and the sentinel's amused resignation at his choice of clothing. Remember Jim will come for you, this is different from the last time remember Jim will come. Blair made it his personal mantra.

Harris waited patiently until the empath had regained some control of himself. The slender body was still shivering but it was not as pronounced as before. King shuffled impatiently and Harris turned to him. "You always ask the guide about the condition of his barriers first, before you attempt to leash him. If they are low then extra care must be taken. If they're gone, you administer a damper first." He turned back to the grad student waiting with resignation for what he could not escape.

"Guide Sandburg, your barriers?"

"High, Sir." Not a quiver shook that voice and Harris shook his head at the sheer courage that bit of bravado implied. This was wrong! All the kid did was get lost in his work. It was obvious the guide wouldn't do anything that would reflect badly on his sentinel. He'd like to get his hands on the busybody SOB who called this in!

"We now leash the guide." Harris let none of his thoughts show on his face or color his tone.

"May I do that, Sir?" There was eagerness in King's voice that troubled Harris. He shook his head. "His sentinel is the Senior Sentinel Prime of Cascade, this has to be done correctly." The Lieutenant was all too aware of the emotional state of Ellison's guide and the history that made leashing so traumatic for him. A trainee fumbling around him would only increase his terror. He said conversationally, "You must push your emotions down when you use the leash. This is a discipline measure; there is no pleasure in doing this." He leaned down and put the collar around the guide's throat, then trailed it down his back, securing his hands there instead of in front of him.

"Belly, Guide." Harris caught a lean shoulder and helped him down, feeling the fine tremors that the guide could not conceal. When Sandburg was stretched out on the carpet, he attached the restraints to his ankles. As he worked, Harris kept up a monologue explaining the traditional leash wrap, as much to give the empath something to focus on besides the feel of the cords as to train King. He pulled the guide back to his knees and hit the intercom.

"Guard, put him in Room 25 and call his sentinel."

Sandburg was pulled to his feet. "Now you tighten the leash to the correct tension so that he can walk without choking himself. There is no need to put the damper on but I want him checked in an hour's time and his status logged. I want no mistakes on this one."

"Yes, Sir." Guard Knight nodded, none too happy with the order. He'd been hoping to have a little fun with the "professor" after his embarrassment at Hargrove Hall.

Harris had done the leash to allow Blair to walk easily as long as he took small steps. He came out of Harris' office with his head down. It didn't prevent him from seeing the students who had gathered in the waiting area. He recognized some of them as being in his class and for some reason, Daryl Banks was with them. They were obviously amused by the leash and the correction overalls and he winced. This would be all over Rainier tomorrow! He forced himself to not react and ignored them. Keep silent and maybe they would forget about him.

A hard hand caught Blair's arm, pulling him along so fast he almost fell in the hobbles. He was pushed into a cell. Knight hefted his backpack onto the table and spilled the contents onto the table.

"Kneel, Guide." He didn't even bother to turn to see if the young man had followed his orders, he knew he would have. The guard circled the table, so he could watch the guide's face.

"Your sentinel actually allows you to study?" He paused, giving the guide a chance to answer. He grinned as the grad student remained silent. "Good little guide, isn't he? Knows he shouldn't speak until his masters allow it." The last was said with a sneer. "Answer me, Guide!"

"Yes, Sir." Blair fought a battle with himself and won. His voice was carefully neutral when he answered, none of the rage, none of the fear he was feeling obvious in the two short words.

"Why?" There was genuine curiosity in Knight's question.

"Senior Sentinel Prime Ellison is a dark sentinel. My research would help him, sir."

"Now that makes sense. There had to be a reason a man like Ellison would put up with a degenerate like you, a rogue guide when he could do so much better." Knight saw heat touch the pale face and knew he'd hit home.

"And I knew there had to be a reason correction scum like you would be allowed at Rainier. My kid brother wanted to go to university. He got turned down. Now, why would they do that and allow you in?"

Knight's aggression level was spiking and Blair could feel it punching through his barriers, as the man towered over him.

"Answer me, scum."

"I don't know, Sir." A neutral answer would be best.

Knight leaned down and with a quick, vicious move shortened the leash. Blair's neck ached as his head was forced down on his chest; cramping ran through his legs.

"Smart professor like you ought to know the reason. Think about it, guide." Knight walked out of the room without a backward glance.

Knight noted the time for the next check and was about to post it on the chalkboard when the students interrupted him.  
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Harris closed his last file and got up to shove it in the file drawer. Thankfully, the University kids hadn't stayed around long once they knew that Dexter wasn't in her office. And once they realized that he had no intention of letting them "observe" Sandburg's correction. Harris realized from something he had overheard that at least two of the students were in the class that Sandburg taught. Harris wondered just whose appointments had been cancelled... He would not like to find out that he had been used to help a bunch of smart alecs get back at their teacher. Harris also wondered how that Banks kid had gotten mixed up with the group. Personally, he thought the teenager was in a bad crowd, they had looked entirely too pleased with themselves when Sandburg had been taken to the cell on the leash. If he had his way he'd just declare the station off-limits to that bunch until the grad student's restriction tour was finished. But Dexter was serious about her bloody PR work, "positive promotion of the GDP" and all that crap. She would have him on the carpet if he didn't play his part. Harris looked at his watch and frowned. He'd expected Ellison to show up by now. Unless the Sentinel had collected his guide with less protesting than Harris thought him capable of... He went into the waiting area.

"Knight." The guard turned to him and straightened. "Yes, Sir?"

"Has Sentinel Prime Ellison collected his guide?"

The sick look on the guard's face told him the answer before Knight cursed briefly. "Hell!"

"You did call him, Knight?" Please have called him. That was in the agreement!

"I... the students were asking questions and... I forgot, then ..." Knight suddenly realized that was the wrong way to handle it. He straightened up,

"No excuse sir."

"Call him now."

Knight had just picked the phone up when Ellison arrived. There was no mistaking that here was one furious sentinel, the anger radiated from him in waves. The man with him looked equally angry, he was slightly smaller than Ellison but had the same disciplined bearing and cold eyes that screamed ex-military.

"My guide, he was not in his office and the secretary said he went somewhere with two GDP guards. Where is he?"

"This way, sir." Knight swallowed and led the sentinel and his companion down the hall to the cell. It always paid to be polite to sentinels, especially when they were in Blessed Protector Mode. Ellison was ... and the man with him didn't look all that happy either. Knight suddenly swallowed as he looked at the chalkboard and realized he had never logged Sandburg in, never made sure that the required checks on his condition had been done. Shit, I could be in big trouble here.

"Your guide is in room 25, Sentinel." Knight moved to block the other man, saying, "This way, Sir, you can wait for..." His voice choked off as a hand shot out and caught him around the neck and he was pinned to the wall. "Go on, Ellison. I'll wait out here unless you need me." Sentinel Ellison yanked open the door to the cell.

Jim entered the cell quietly, dusk had fallen outside and no one had bothered to turn on the lights in the small room. He dialed up his sight and quickly crossed the distance to his guide. The young empath was hunched into himself, held in that uncomfortable position by the leather thongs of the leash. Blair was staring at nothing, his eyes unblinking, unmoving. His breathing was slow and sluggish. "Chief?... Blair? Can you hear me, kid?" Ellison reached out to his guide and the kid slumped forward into his arms. "Oh, God, Blair... what the hell kind of a sentinel am I that I let those bastards keep doing this kind of crap to you?" There was no answer.

Harris came out of his office in time to see Knight struggling against a well-built man he had never seen before. One whose body language screamed "sentinel" to his experienced eye.

"Let him go." Harris made that an order but nothing happened until a voice he recognized as Ellison's bellowed from the cell behind them.

"Edwards, get David!"

The face that "Edwards" turned to him held the fury of a primitive sentinel, everything of instinct and nothing resembling civilized control. Harris knew he had a major problem on his hands. Ellison was a Dark Sentinel. When he had gone into Blessed Protector Mode it had obviously triggered Sentinel Edwards own protective instincts. Edwards threw Knight at the Lieutenant's feet and snarled.

"This is now a Clan matter. Interfere and you will regret it."

Edwards walked out of the station and returned with his own guide, holding onto him tightly. David's reaction to the GDP uniforms only fueled Edward's own protective mode. David had never been rogue but he had linked with the Senior Guide Prime and had experienced the fear and horror they held for the younger man. Even second-hand, that fear was enough to rattle the older guide.

He shepherded his guide through the door into the small cell. Ellison had removed the leash from Blair's limp form and was gently patting his guide's face... Blair was non-responsive. David knelt down, putting a hand out to link with his fellow empath. Cautiously, he connected, trying to kick-start the younger guide out of the fugue he had fallen into. Lightning suddenly scorched through him and he gasped as he was pushed away. Blair's barriers were indeed gone, but something else was there, something wild, angry and burning that stood guard over the gentle young empath. David fell back onto his backside as the Dark Guide lifted his head, looked at him, and snarled, "Get out! He would not see you hurt." . Edwards caught his guide and pulled him close. "David?"

"Gods! He kicked me out. I can't handle the power." He grabbed for his sentinel, desperate for his support. Without questions, without waiting for the privacy Edwards had always demanded, the sentinel prime agreed to the link.

Jim tugged his guide to his feet, a strong arm holding him when he would have fallen. He manhandled the smaller man to a chair, and began to rub circulation back into his arms and legs. Blair still hadn't said a word but for the Dark Guide's snapped warning to David. One shaky hand rested on the sentinel's shoulder. Jim's head snapped up as their connection flared, as Detective Jim Ellison was connected to the Dark Guide. Blair's hand was softly caressing Ellison's broad shoulder. Jim straightened up and looked into the deep blue eyes of his guide.

"Come on, Chief, put him back in the box. There's no threat and he's not needed, not now." He coaxed, his hands grasping the empath's upper arms.

"And miss out on the fun? There is a threat to me here, or have you forgotten that, Sentinel?" Sandburg got to his feet and swayed as cramps rippled through his legs. A strong arm pulled him tightly against his sentinel's body and a bitter voice said softly.

"No, my Guide, I have not forgotten but sometimes discretion is the better part of valor, Chief." The Dark Guide was fully capable of defending himself but that was something best kept from the GDP.

"David get my backpack, please." The polite command was from the Dark Guide.

Ellison had to get Blair home and rested, and maybe then the Dark Guide would give way to Blair.

Harris blocked the way. "Sorry, Sentinel, but you..."

"Get out of the way Lieutenant. You shackled my guide and left him like that for three hours. I never got the agreed to phone call. Get out of my way before I put you down. Blair will report as he is duty bound, but you will not leash him again or you will answer to me."

"He has to go to the correction facility." Harris did not want to bring that up but he did want to hear the sentinel's answer. He got it as both sentinels pinned him with eyes radiating primal fury.

"No, he does not. If you have a problem with that, you come to me." Ellison's smile twisted and changed as the Dark Sentinel came out to play. The smile grew wider as Edwards laughed. The lieutenant held himself still. He knew that the sentinels had detected the increase in his heart rate but he refused to let it show.

"Come on, Chief." Ellison tucked the smaller man under his arm.

Harris was nervous and confused. The young man walking out looked like Blair Sandburg, but Harris could have sworn that he wasn't. There was no cringing awareness of the correction facility overalls he still wore. This was a man who didn't care about the message they sent, he had all the confidence that had been beaten out of the young guide he had leashed.

Harris watched them leave, wondering what, if anything, he should report about this.  
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David and Blair took the back seats of the sedan and the sentinels took the front. That had been Blair's choice. He needed to get his own emotions under control before he linked with his sentinel. Jim understood his decision; he didn't have to like it. Ellison turned to Edwards. "My thanks, Sentinel."

"And mine too." Blair leaded forward and, without asking permission, laid his hand on Edward's shoulder. The connection went deeper than a guide not his own should have been able to get but Edwards accepted the touch of the Senior Guide Prime.

"We are thankful that our assistance was of help to you, Senior Guide Prime," Edwards responded formally.

David raised his hand and laid it on top of Blair's and felt the power coursing between his sentinel, Ellison's guide and himself. His own link to Edwards seemed to deepen as if Sandburg was somehow refining the older guide's skills. Karl had mentioned that he could not understand how Blair handled the emotional load of the Dark Sentinel and stay sane. David now knew how, the Senior Guide Prime had resilience and strength in spades.

Blair eased out of the connection and curled in on himself. David immediately lay back against the seat. His arms encircled the younger empath and pulled him to rest against his shoulder. David linked with him, his support more to let Blair feel that he wasn't alone than to repair the trauma he had sustained. Soon Sandburg would bond with his sentinel and all would be right, but a car crowded with another sentinel/guide pair was not the place. David sighed as he felt the smaller man's body lose some of its tenseness and looked to the front. He smiled to himself; the sentinels were in protective mode guarding the Guide Prime. David realized that he hadn't felt any jealousy when Sandburg had touched his sentinel and there was a rightness about his sentinel guarding the Guide Prime that he couldn't deny. He wondered at himself. Karl is right, Blair is a puzzle. They both are.

Jim pulled out of the parking lot and headed back to the station and the sentinel suite.

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Leo Kessler was angry as he went through the files in Blair's office. He had been sure that the kid would have something on his dark sentinel research he could find. He knew the way Blair Sandburg worked. He would have plenty of notes, the kid went everywhere with a notebook and nothing was too insignificant to escape his notice. He slammed shut the last file drawer and swore. Nothing! Damn kid's starting to get careful. That was a disturbing trend. Leo counted on Blair's innate belief in the goodness of people and the care he took to not read his friends, to blind the younger man's sharp intelligence to his true purpose in befriending him. Kessler stilled as he heard someone in the hall, it was time to leave. He had had to break the lock to get in and that would be noticed. Couldn't be helped, the bloody kid had the presence of mind to lock the door even while being arrested. He tugged an aerosol can out of his pocket and sprayed it over his tracks. He went to the door and listened...then left. He would have to wait and try later. Information on Dark Sentinels was very marketable and he wasn't going to let some wet behind the ears empath keep it from him.  
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"Jim, the loft, please." The voice from the back seat was very soft.

"We need to bond, Chief. The station's closer."

"NO. Just get me back to our territory." Blair sounded very sure and Jim scanned his guide's body for physical distress. The heart rate was still slightly elevated and fine tremors coursed through the slender body but, overall, Blair was better than he had any right to be.

Jim hesitated, then capitulated. Blair needed a sense of control right now and Jim could give him that. This time, the guide would lead and he would follow. The silence in the car was companionable and soothing. Both sentinels smiled as they sensed the young guide drop into a light doze.

Edwards waited in the car with his guide as the sentinel and guide primes went up to the loft. He chatted with David, trying not to tune into the argument that was raging over his head about whether or not the guide needed to bond now or later. A few minutes later, Ellison came out and Edwards knew who had won the argument.   
The detective was angry, fuming more likely. The car door slammed as Ellison yanked on his seat belt. Luckily, Edwards had turned his hearing down. Edwards got into the back seat with his guide as Ellison muttered,

"Damn kid thinks it more important that I finish out my shift at the station than see to his welfare."

David said quietly, "Sentinel, he worries that Captain Banks will resent his interference with your job."

"Simon? He puts off bonding so that Simon will be happy? I am going to have a talk with that kid when I get home..." Ellison stabbed the key into the ignition. "Jim, do you think you should be driving? You're pretty upset. I ..."

Edwards' comment ended with a shouted, "Oh, hell" as they narrowly missed a truck and a catering van. "Jim, you want to be a little careful? My guide's in this car..." He shut up as Ellison squeezed through a narrow gap between two trucks that he would never have attempted. Jim might be sentinel prime but his driving was terrible. Well, okay, not terrible... just reckless... thank God for sentinel senses and reflexes or they'd never make the station! Edwards threw an arm around his guide and held on.


	9. Chapter 9

When James Ellison entered the loft at the end of the day, he stopped dead in his tracks. It looked as if some one had ransacked the place. His formerly neat home was covered by a veritable blizzard of paper. The chair and sofa had been moved to make room for a chart on the floor. Videotapes covered the coffee table and floor. There was no sign of his guide. He instinctively reached for his gun even as he extended his hearing. He slid the gun back into the holster when he heard only one heart beat, and recognised it as belonging to his guide. Jim looked around the chaos and yelled,

"Okay, Chief, front and center. Want to explain this... NOW."

Blair emerged from his room. "Hey, Jim, you won't believe..." Jim almost smiled as the younger man did a classic double-take. Sandburg glanced at the clock, at the mess and at Jim and swore. He began to collect the papers into towering piles.

"Sooo sorry, Jim, I didn't think it was that time. Carol brought the stuff over and I ..." he shrugged.

"Got carried away, junior?" Ellison teased him even as he felt thankful that the dark guide had gone back into his box for the moment. It scared him a little when he came out. He was looking forward to the day Blair meshed with that persona completely. Then Blair could call upon the strength of the Dark Guide without losing his... his "Blairness." In the meantime, The Dark Guide's presence was like having a wild cat as a pet, dangerous and unpredictable.

"No problem, Chief, just get this mess ...." he trailed off. God, his guide was giving him the look that made him feel like he had just kicked a box of puppies. "You can clear it up after dinner. Okay?"

"Okay, Jim. You're going to love this site, Jim! It..." Blair was off and talking a mile a minute as Jim prepared the evening meal. Ellison had only four meals that he could cook and be willing to serve another person. To say that Blair had widened his dining choices considerably would not exaggerate the case. At first, Blair has been uncomfortable with Jim cooking, fearing that he was being tested. Then he realized that his sentinel liked to cook... as long as Blair could be happy with his limited repertoire. It wasn't Ellison's food that Blair liked so much as the proof it gave that Jim did not regard him as his domestic to do all the work around the loft. Cooking was something they shared, as they did all the chores.

Dr Welland was in his early fifties, a tall buff looking man with high color to his cheeks and an eye for the ladies. He was considered a good archaeologist but he lacked that big discovery that would have made his name at an international level. He smiled at Carol Reeves; she was his favorite student, pity she didn't work for him as a TA. His own curvaceous TA went by and for a moment he was lost in the sight. Then he pulled himself back together. "You ask Blair Sandburg if he was coming?"

"Yes, Martin. He said that his sentinel had agreed to come on the dig so Blair's all set." Reeve's delight that the young Anthro grad student was coming was clear in her voice.

"That would be the Dark Sentinel he's using for his dissertation?" There was a hint of disapproval in Welland's question.

"Sure. His name's Ellison, Jim Ellison. He's a detective with the Cascade PD." Reeves looked slightly puzzled at his tone and Welland smiled heartily at her.

"Good. I'll have a word with Doctor Woodward about them. Must know how to look after our sentinel and guide, you know."

She glanced at her watch. "I... er... better be going."

"Remember about the digger team meeting, make sure that Sandburg knows about it." Welland reminded himself to keep his opinion of Guide Sandburg to himself.

Personally, he could not give a damn about the little creep coming on the dig. As far as he was concerned it was criminal that with all the hard working students at the University that a prime TA position, a fellowship at that, should be given to a guide. What mattered to him was that the sentinel was coming. That was important for the plan. He phoned Professor Anderson's office.

"Hello, Richard. You remember that William Steele was going to do that Dark Sentinel thesis for his PhD and it got turned down because he had no subject?" He waited for the other man to express his opinion on that touchy topic before continuing, "What would you say if I told you that I know where he can find a Dark Sentinel?" More blustering. "No, I'm not kidding, Richard. Turns out that the Sandburg kid... yeah the Guide TF over in Anthro, belongs to a Dark Sentinel. The dissertation review board has accepted Sandburg's proposed topic on Dark Sentinels for his doctoral dissertation... Woah, Richard, don't shoot the messenger, but yes, his guide is being allowed to do his doctoral studies on his own sentinel, a bit incestuous, isn't it?"

He nodded as he heard Richard start to rant on the other end of the phone. Richard Anderson would be hot on the phone to the Board. It would take him two or three weeks to get them to agree on an emergency meeting, long enough for the pairing to be on the dig before it hit the fan. Blair Sandburg would return to the University only to find that his farce of an academic career was over before he had a chance to blight Rainier's reputation as a serious center of Sentinel research. It helped his plans immeasurably that William Steele's father was a big benefactor of the University. He leaned back in his chair. Nothing like a pissed off father and a jealous academic to get things in motion. Anderson had never liked the respect and authority that the University officials heaped upon Doctor Woodward. Woodward was the only man who could have brought a Guide into the University as a Teaching Fellow and that fact had rankled more than one academic breast.

Woodward's a bleeding heart liberal who needs to learn the truth. Guides are second class citizens, one grade above a guide dog, and you would not let Rover in the university. He chuckled at his own witticism, picked his file and went to his meeting with Doctor Woodward.

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Blair pulled out his ID card and ran it through the bar code reader. The door clicked and he entered the University Library. For a moment he just stood there and looked up at the vaulted ceiling, breathing in the aroma of old paper and ink. This is what he had missed... the whole atmosphere of learning that had been his whole life before the GDP had caught him. He shook himself out of the dark thoughts that threatened, that was over. He belonged here again! He headed for the stacks; he needed to get a couple of books out for the extra course he was taking.

"Guide Sandburg." The voice was as arid as a desert and as welcoming. Blair knew who he would see even before he turned around. Professor Higgins had had it in for him ever since Blair had been a sixteen-year-old sophomore who had challenged a point of fact in one of Higgins' articles and been right. It hadn't been the most politic thing to do but Blair had passionately believed that it was all about truth. It had been a rude awakening for the young student to discover that, for some "scholars," it was about reputation, not truth.

Blair turned and juggled the books in his arms. "Professor Higgins, can I help you, sir?"

Higgins looked him up and down, his disgust plain to see. "I see you are down for my Tuesday seminar."

"Yes, sir. I think that having more of a background in psychobiology will help me understand my sentinel better. It will also..."

Higgins overrode him. "You will not enter my office, my lecture hall or my department. If you do, I will have the GDP remove you." He moved into Blair's personal space, fully aware that one did not do that to an empath. "I personally believe that your presence at Rainier is an insult to this academic facility. I have no problem with your kind receiving Guide college education to assist their sentinels, but University?" His laughter was mocking. "You take up space a normal student with a future could have occupied. You are a waste of time and effort. Get down on your knees where you belong." He pulled the books from Blair's hands, meeting no resistance. "You won't be needing these, guide." The professor walked away.

Blair sank down onto one of the nearby chairs, his heart pounding. That had come out of nowhere. Okay, okay, settle down, Blair. You knew there would be resistance to you being here. Okay, put it behind you, there are other courses where the professors aren't narrow-minded bigots. He ran a hand over his face and then went to pick his other books up. He kept his head up and refused to show his embarrassment. He was aware that there had been witnesses to the scene and that the details would be around Rainier in no time at all. One of those details was not going be a description of him slinking away as if he had done something wrong.

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Doctor Welland had no trouble arranging a meeting with Woodward, the man prided himself on being accessible. The archaeology professor settled himself into a seat opposite his host.

"Thanks for seeing me at such short notice but I wanted to make sure I knew where I was. You see, Blair Sandburg has been accepted on the Croxley dig for two weeks and for some reason, he's bringing his sentinel with him. I don't have any experience with those sort, sentinels and guides, I mean. I was hoping that perhaps you could give me some guide lines on dealing with them, excuse the pun." Welland smiled as if he had nothing but admiration for the man who outstripped him in professional renown.

Robert Woodward leaned back in his chair. He had had little personal contact with the Welland beyond the odd faculty meeting. But he had been on the receiving end of his memos for the last six months, ever since the Croxley Meadows dig had been authorized and put under the Anthropology department budget because it related to sentinels. He knew Welland hated the fact that archaeology was the poor relation to the anthropology/Sentinel Studies department.

"I would suggest that you read the Sentinel 101 text. It's a good starting point although some of the views it presents are a little dated as applied to the particular pairing you'll be dealing with but it would give you a foundation. Blair Sandburg has been bonded to James Ellison for a little less than two months, a relatively short time as bondings go. We would regard their partnership as still a new bonding." Woodward noted that Welland moved restlessly as he referred to "their partnership" and wondered what that was all about. He went on, trying to explain enough so that his favorite student could avoid any problems.

"Now then, Ellison is Senior Sentinel Prime of Cascade as well as a Dark Sentinel. His senses are far stronger than is normal for even sentinels and his control is less certain. Blair's job is to keep him focused and centered so that Ellison can work. That Ellison is a Dark Sentinel means that he could react more aggressively to anything that he sees as a threat to his guide. Ellison is a cop and has military training in his background that should help his control but it must always be remembered that instincts are a powerful influence on Dark Sentinels."

"Dark Sentinels are the more primitive type, aren't they? I thought they had died out." Welland was curious even beyond what he needed to know to fit Ellison into his plans.

"No. Just very, very, rare. Blair is doing his dissertation on him. He is a meticulous observer and a thorough scholar... his work should make for the first real study on this phenomenon."

Welland looked thoughtful. "He's working with his own sentinel? That's been approved?"

Woodward picked up the man's disapproval. "Anthropology is a discipline that requires that it's practitioners "join the tribe" so to speak while still remaining objective observers. In particular, to study a Dark Sentinel requires the closest observation and a tremendous amount of trust between the sentinel and the student... who better than the sentinel's guide to fill that role? And Sandburg is fully capable of separating his feelings from his findings. He wrote a report on his experiences with another Dark Sentinel that is a masterpiece of objective reporting despite the sometimes horrific nature of the details. He has my full confidence and support for his work."

Welland felt as if he'd been taken to task but he let none of his anger show.

"So, how do I deal with this Dark Sentinel?"

"Will your people be camping or staying in town?" Woodward had given some thought to this, seeing it as a potential source of problems.

"Camping, the town people aren't exactly happy with us at the moment. We're holding up the reopening of the lumber mill that's been taken over by the Grace Company. It will be best that we keep out of the way."

"Actually, that will work out well for the sentinel. Blair tells me that Ellison loves to camp. Just make sure that Blair and Ellison share a tent, just the two of them. A third person would be invading his territory. Basically just keep the two of them together and listen to Blair, he knows what is best for his sentinel. Other than that, treat him like an ordinary human. It is what he is after all. Human, I mean."

"He's a police officer, I hear." Welland said after a moment.

"Yes, he is a detective with the Major Crime Division. Why?"

"We both know that students like the wacky tobacco. I'll have to make sure they're aware that the sentinel is a police officer. It wouldn't look good if half my digging team got busted."

With anyone else it would have been a joke, but Woodward realized that Welland meant it. Woodward could not quite put a finger on the cause, but he was beginning to dread this archaeological dig. He had a bad feeling about it. He turned his attention back to the other professor as Welland asked, "So, Sandburg, how do we treat him?"

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Blair had touched base with Harris, signing in with Jim by his side. All thoughts of a day at the correction facility had been forgotten. The Lieutenant was pleased to see the guide was reacting normally again, the bright light of intelligent curiosity back in the blue eyes. His report to Commander Slater had resulted in an hour-long conference with the Director's right hand man. The Commander had hinted that unless he wanted to be manning a station in Alaska, he would forget everything that had happened in the station that night. As he watched the stern faced sentinel leave the station with his guide bouncing at his side, Harris found that remarkably easy to do.

Rainier University was thronging with students moving around the campus on their way to various lectures and study groups. Many of the students were giving Jim a calculating look, his very appearance screamed one word, COP. The detective, ever on duty, monitored the passing crowd while the sentinel part of his mind was locked onto his guide. Jim could not help smiling as he watched his guide. The younger man was bouncing along beside him and talking a mile a minute about the archaeological dig that they would be attending. It was as if he had finally let himself believe that Jim would let him go. As a bonded guide, there was no way that he would have been able to hold his barriers up against other peoples' emotions for fourteen days without his sentinel's support. Which meant that Jim was going on an archaeological dig. Simon had taken to calling him "Indy" and someone had planted a pith helmet on his desk. Jim's smile widened, he could take a little ribbing if the reason made his guide this happy. The kid had been talking of nothing else for the past week. Even the unpleasant incidents he ran into on campus failed to diminish his enthusiasm.

Jim suddenly bristled as he heard a voice. "...disgrace letting that little guide freak work here. I heard the Professor say he was going to ...." A blast of a CD player overloaded Jim's hearing and he winced. Blair's hand on his arm pulled him out of it and he tried to track the source of that threat to his guide and lost it. Ellison frowned, the University was just as dangerous as the streets. The only difference he could see was that here they back-stabbed you in a civilized manner. At least he had Doctor Woodward to help watch Blair's back.

A young woman detached herself from a group outside of Hargrove Hall and came towards them. She smiled broadly at Blair. Jim's eyebrows rose as he smelled the interest the young woman took in his guide. Blair returned her smile and closed the distance between them. Receiving a light kiss on the lips, his arms went around her and she leaned back to look at him. "Still all right for tonight, Rosemary?"

"Yes, my roommates are out tonight. I thought a nice home cooked Italian meal and then we'll..." she arched her eyebrow... "see what happens."

Ellison was amused to see the kid blush but Blair answered happily, "Sounds great, Rosie, 8:30 okay?"

"8:30." She leaned into him and the kiss this time was passionate and full of promise for the evening. Then, with a grin she turned and left, with a small "Hi" to Jim.

"Hi." Jim was grinning broadly now. His freely expressed emotion would have shocked anyone who knew the sentinel, even his ex-wife had said he was emotionally dead. It was only with Blair that he allowed that side of him to show. "Another date, Chief?" He quizzed dryly.

"Hey, man, it's not like that. Carol introduced us. Rosemary's working on an organizational structure paper for a sociology seminar. I have this really great video on the Gowholi tribe and Carol thought Rosemary might get something out of it. We've had coffee a couple of times at the Commons. She is really something, Jim." Sandburg gave a sigh of appreciation as he watched the young woman walk away. Ellison shook his head, either Rosemary knew Blair was watching or she just naturally walked as if she was on the high seas and the deck was rolling. "Um, Jim... speaking of my date. Could I borrow..."

"No, Chief, sorry but you can't borrow the truck. It's in the garage, remember? And you're not allowed to drive that clunker Simon got us."

"Come on, man, she lives on the other side of the University. I would really appreciate a lift..."

Jim held up a hand. "Hold up there, junior. I was going to say that you can drive yourself."

"What? I thought you said..."

Jim enjoyed the look of confusion on his guide's face. "I was going to suggest that we pick your car up and then you'd have your own set of wheels. And I won't have to keep worrying about what you're doing to, or in, my truck."

"I can't afford to buy a car." Blair sounded as confused as he looked. For a genius, the kid doesn't have a clue sometimes.

"Stephen helped me locate a Corvair, he says its in good condition. All we have to do is pick it up today."

"You're serious about this?" Blair looked ecstatic, then he sobered up. "Jim, man, I really appreciate it but guides aren't allowed to own cars. We can have drivers licenses but..."

"The car will officially be in my name, Blair, but in every way its yours. Just like the money you earn as a TA is paid into an account in my name but you have the ATM, it's just sleight of hand, Chief."

Blair just stared at him in disbelief and Jim felt a pang in the vicinity of the heart no one thought he had. Sandburg still couldn't understand that anyone could want to do something nice for him once in a while. That's gonna change, Chief.

Jim never ceased to amaze him. Most people, even those he worked with, thought, no...knew he was nothing more than a cold stolid cop. Actually, he was a caring, thoughtful man. It was a side that he didn't show to everyone, and yet he constantly showed it to Blair. I don't understand... I'd still be his guide... why does he bother?

"Let's go, Junior, before this Corvair rusts out waiting for us."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The evening hadn't started off very well. The roommate was at home and had immediately started coming on to Sandburg, to the empath's embarrassment and Rosemary's pique. Fortunately, Blair had remembered that Jim was out on an all-night stake out and the grad students had promptly adjourned their evening to the Loft. The food had travelled well and was even tastier reheated. They had talked of things anthropological and sociological and swapped stories of "most embarrassing fieldwork moment." Mindful of Jim's neatness fetish, Blair had insisted on doing the dishes and Rosemary had insisted on helping him. When the last dish was dried, Rosemary had called, "Blair..." When he turned from the cabinet, she had decorated his nose with soap bubbles. Blair promptly sneezed and Rosemary fell into a fit of the giggles. By mutual consent, they had wound up on the sofa. Sandburg shoved in the video Rosemary had wanted to see and the two settled down to watch it.

Blair was relaxed and enjoying himself, feeling safe and secure in the comfort of the loft, of home. When Rosemary snuggled against him, he threw an arm around her shoulders and planted a kiss on the top of her head, eyes still glued to the screen and his social commentary flowing freely. Rosemary shifted against him again, and Blair absent-mindedly played with her hair. Something was tickling in the back of Blair's mind, his body started tingling... and then Rosemary muttered something about anthropologists who couldn't observe their way out of a paper bag and didn't Blair know anything about the courting rituals of the modern American female? Deep blue eyes had locked on brown and the next kiss was right on target. Blair dimly wondered if Rosemary might not have some marginal empathic talents, the connection between them was practically humming. Blair was used to knowing what his partners wanted from him; Rosemary seemed to know what he wanted, needed.

Things took off from there. Several pieces of clothing later, Rosemary accepted his hand and followed him into his bedroom. She gave him a push onto the bed when he wasn't expecting it and he wound up sprawled on his back amidst the pillows. With a laugh, she pounced on him and pinned him onto the multi-colored bedspread; she had never had such a willing prisoner. They were in close embrace when Blair rolled, gently flipping her onto her back. They kissed as frantic hands struggled with recalcitrant buttons and zippers. Then Blair slowed the pace and their mouths met in a long passionate kiss. "Rosie... Rosie... sure?" She groaned as he wasted time on what had to be the stupidest question she'd ever heard in her life and invited him with a wordless sigh and a willing body to read her.

Her emotions swept over him, intensifying his own with sweet torture, his responses tuned into her needs. They were lost in the moment, poised on the brink of becoming one, hearts pounding in unison...

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

It had been a sweet piece of work. Jim had extended his senses the slightest bit, relying on Rafe and H to keep him centered, just like they had practised under Blair's watchful eye. Even on what H. jokingly referred to as the "unguided power setting," Jim's senses had let the detectives find concealment blocks away from their target. Devereaux had been so sure no one was watching the warehouse that he and his men made very little effort to conceal the movement of the smuggled weapons into storage. He had not been happy to have his business disrupted by a tactical team from the Cascade PD. Simon, on the other hand, was very happy and the DA even happier. So happy, that Simon had let every one go home early before the paperwork was even done. Ellison climbed the stairs to the loft, wishing that his guide was home. He wanted to... well... brag a bit about how well it had gone, how well the senses had worked...What the hell!

Anger and terror swept over him as he heard his guide's heartbeat, rampaging almost out of control, his breath coming in gasps... Jim hit the door and sprung it open, gun out, ready to... die of embarrassment...

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

A loud crash as the front door was slammed open with a vengeance had the same effect as a bucket of ice water. Rosemary squeaked, startled and not a little afraid.

Blair's heart began to pound in his chest for a reason other than the woman in his arms. He tried to keep his voice level. "It's just my roommate, he said he would be out all night. Guess they caught the bad guy early. I am sorry, Rosemary."

Jim stopped in his tracks his anger vanishing as he heard a second heartbeat next to his guide's familiar one. He inhaled slightly and he smelled perfume... and a more basic scent. He hesitated a second and then turned and began to leave... but he had nowhere he wanted to go. He debated going up to his bedroom but that wouldn't be enough to take the damper off the evening; the grad students knew how sensitive his hearing was. He swore to himself, of all the times for the criminals to show up early! Well, no help for it, they knew he was here. "Sandburg, I'm back."

Blair's head dropped down to rest on her shoulder, "Sorry, Rosemary." He looked up, expecting to see anger, but all he saw was a grin. She laughed,

"We don't have much luck, do we, Blair?"

"Maybe we should try cards?"

"Come on, Blair, let's go say hi to your roommate."

Jim pulled a bottle of beer from the fridge and carefully did not listen in to the sounds from the bedroom behind him. When Blair appeared, the young woman Jim had seen that morning on his arm, he was looking slightly sheepish. "Hey, Jim, this is Rosemary Cooney."

"Rosemary, sorry about the entrance."

She smiled. "Well, it was ... um... exciting anyway. You were at the university this morning with Blair. You're a sentinel aren't you?"

"Yes. Sandburg guides me." Jim wondered where this was going.

"I was thinking that maybe you could give me an interview. I'm studying alternative societies. You can't get any more alternative than the Sentinel world with its own structures, laws and mores."

"I'll think about it." Jim was non-committal but Rosemary just flashed him a wide smile and said, "Great, Jim, thanks." She turned and kissed Blair. "See you in class tomorrow. Okay?"

"Okay. Sorry about tonight." Blair walked her over to the door and she put a hand on his chest and stopped him.

"I can get to my car on my own, Blair. You probably want to know what brought Jim home early and as for apologizing... the dinner was great, the conversation scintillating, the video amazing and ... well, let's just say you'd better ask me out so we can finish what we started!"

Rosemary kissed him again and went...humming... down the hall.

Once he'd shut the door, Blair turned. "Man, your timing could have been better, you know?" Blair's voice said he was slightly unsure of what Jim's reaction would be.

"Well, I didn't think you would be making out in our home. I thought you were going to her place?"

Blair hesitated for a second. Then his eyes widened in realization. Jim had said *our home.* He really meant it was their home.

Blair sighed happily and then grinned as he saw the amusement in Ellison's eyes. "Well, things didn't go exactly as we planned. Her roommate never left and mine came home early."

"Well, do me a favor, Chief, and take a shower." It was said with a smile.

"Jim, you don't think she... well, just to get a chance to ask you..."

Jim shook his head. "No, Chief, I don't. I was just a bonus." Blair bounced away, humming the same tune Rosemary had. Ellison grinned, the kid was in seventh heaven. Jim shook his head slowly. He had wondered when the doubts would set in. Blair really didn't know the effect he had on women. And since Blair's first fling had been a set up for murder, he had to have been wondering if Rosemary had an ulterior motive as well. He just hoped that this time the kid could have some fun without discovering a hidden agenda.

Blair smiled as he got out of the shower and carefully bagged his clothes until they could be washed. Rosemary's scent was still alien to the Dark Sentinel and he was aware that he had to be careful about triggering Jim's territorial imperative. Jim might not acknowledge, or rather pretend to not acknowledge, that he had in him the primitive, feral sentinel, but it was there and sometimes it wanted out. He rubbed his hair with another towel and for a moment he froze as he saw the marks on his back. He shuddered, the bruises from the beating he had taken at the hand of Tony Howard were still faintly visible. Rosemary hadn't noticed or if she did, she hadn't said anything. He thought about Rosemary and grinned. Her responses had not been faked and she had genuinely enjoyed talking with him too! He pulled Jim's old robe on. It was about three sizes too big for him but, somehow, wearing it made him feel safe. He hung his towels up and left the bathroom in a billow of steam.

Jim was still nursing his beer. "Want one, Sandburg?"

Blair hesitated but shook his head.

Jim's voice softened, "Blair, you can have a beer if you want one."

"No I can't. Alex never allowed me to drink. She..." Blair stopped as he saw Jim react to the other sentinel's name.

Jim brought the immediate, unthinking rage he always felt at mention of Alex's name under control. Blair had never really spoken of his time with Alex Barnes, but Jim knew that it had been bad. He had seen enough of the scars she'd left behind to know he didn't really want to know just how bad it had been. But he suspected that Sandburg needed to talk about what he had endured and Jim was pleased that his young guide felt comfortable enough to talk to him about those times. He wouldn't allow his own anger and hate of the now dead sentinel who had tortured his guide get in the way of helping the younger man deal with the aftermath.

"Tell me, Chief." Ellison threw a comforting arm over his guide's shoulders and ushered him into the living room.

Blair took a seat on the edge of the sofa. He wove his fingers together and stared at the resulting pattern. Finally, he whispered, "She... She put me in the hospital to make a point about me not drinking. One of her goons had spilt alcohol on me as a joke... I still stank of it when she got back," his voice lifted, almost as if he was living it again. "She must have known I hadn't drank anything, you would've, right?" Jim looked into the expressive face and knew that Blair was asking for reassurance that he had done nothing wrong. That Alex should have known - if she had wanted to.

Ellison took another pull from his bottle and nodded, his eyes never leaving Blair's face.

"But she...." he hesitated and stared down at his left hand. The fingers flexed slowly, as if he was feeling something remembered. "She broke my fingers... and ...." he trailed off. Dark blue eyes raised to light blue, hurt and confusion and troubled memories in the young empath's gaze.

"Blair," Jim said gently into the confused silence, "I'm not going to force a drink down your throat, but there's a beer there if you want one, okay?" The sentinel kept eye contact as he added, "If you ever want to try a beer or whatever, we'll do it here, together, so you can see how it will affect you." And so that he would be there when his guide faced any demons, real or drink induced.

"Okay, Jim. Thanks." Blair wasn't sure whether he was thanking Jim for the offer of a drink or for treating him as an ordinary person. He knew that his heartbeat had stopped, then skyrocketed when Jim had come home and found him with Rosemary. His instinct had been to run, sure that Jim would punish him for bringing her home and making love to her in his loft. But he couldn't leave Rosemary to face him... and he couldn't run, not from Jim. Any other sentinel would have never let him out on his own to start with and would probably have beaten him senseless for having her over. But Jim Ellison was different. He cared enough to treat him like a regular person, not a bonded guide. Even now he some times caught himself taking a deep breath and waiting for the bubble to burst as it had when Jim lost his memory.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"How did the stakeout go? I should have been there."

Jim shook his head in fond amusement. The kid was so predictable. He gave the kid an evening off and here came the guilt.

"No problems." He reassured Blair. "Nothing but straight forward police work, just like I use to do before all the sentinel stuff kicked in. Although you really have made a difference in how much control I have over these senses. H and Rafe were impressed with me." Jim's whole body just emoted smugness. Blair's eyebrows went up and the corners of his mouth went down. "You used your senses... what if you had zoned? I mean, c'mon, Jim, that's supposed to be my job! Watching your..."

If he didn't want to sit through a cautionary lecture it was time for a major distraction. Ellison noticed the folder on the table and grabbed for it as for a lifeline. "So, this is the information on the dig?" Jim resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn't get away with avoiding seeing the file contents this time. Last night he had been lucky, a Jags game had side tracked the younger man, but tonight all he had was reruns, not even a National Geographic special to tempt his resident anthropologist. On the other hand, talking about their vacation would be ideal to distract the kid from the lecture he was giving on the role of a guide in his sentinel's life.

Blair took the bait as the sentinel handed the folder to him. He hugged the thick package close to him. "Its high up in the mountains, above the logging works that closed in the 90's. Not even campers go up that high." He added quickly, "You'll like it, Jim, nothing but trees and streams and mountains. It's quiet, real quiet that high up. You can unwind and ..."

"Breathe, Chief, breathe." Ellison waited until Blair had pulled in a lungful of air. "That' better. You've sold me on this trip, already. Remember?" If he were honest with himself, Jim would have had to admit that he wouldn't have minded if they were planning to climb Everest in a tux. His guide was excited, the blue eyes snapping with intelligence and sense of wonder. Jim saw in him the man he had been, the man Doctor Woodward had talked about, before his life had been blighted by sentinels and the GDP. It was good to see that the vital spirit of Blair Sandburg was still there and coming more and more to the surface. Jim studied the younger man critically as Sandburg laid out photos and diagrams on the coffee table. Blair was still spooked at times; the GDP had done an excellent job of beating fear responses into him. But Jim hoped that the deeper their bond went the more Blair would understand that they could not touch him, that Jim would always come for him.

Jim moved around the sofa and sat down near him. "Okay, Chief, take me through the aerials of the site. Just how does this tower thing fit into the whole building?" Jim stared at the photograph and suddenly everything went grey. Blair's head snapped up as he realized that something was wrong. "Dammit, Jim, come on, man, don't do this to me, not NOW."

Blair turned and took hold of Jim's shoulders. His thumbs gently massaged the tight shoulder muscles as his empathic sense reached out and pushed into Jim's mind. He called his sentinel back from the zone out with touch and voice and mind.

Jim took a deep, shaky breath and his eyes opened and focused on Blair's worried face. He could feel the tugging on the back of his mind. Jim reached out and placed the palm of his hand against his guide's heart. He could feel the warmth of his skin through the material, hear the rustling of the air through his lungs and the blood in his veins. His guide was calling to him.

"Jim, you okay, man?" At Ellison's nod, he probed, "What were you concentrating on when you zoned? What set you off?"  
"I don't know, Chief. I was looking at the photo, at the building, and then everything was gone."

Blair picked the photograph up. All he could see was trees. "What building, Jim?" A big hand reached past him and took the photo off him. "Can't you see it, Blair? Here, the steps... the entrance."

Jim's fingers were tracing a pattern on the photographic paper. He was starting to drift again when he was pulled back by the sharp command of his guide. The voice was designed to bring a sentinel back to the land of the living, it was a "don't make me come and get you" tone. Jim's head came up with a jerk.

"Blair?" He sounded puzzled.

"I'd better take this." Blair gently removed the photograph from his sentinel's hand. He'd show it to Colin Sharpe tomorrow and see if he could find something on it. If just a picture was zoning his sentinel, he wanted to know what it was before they got anywhere near the place. 0-0--0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Colin Sharpe was nervous, hell he had long ago gone past that into pure paranoid, but he was the best computer expert that Blair knew, even if his expertise was in hacking systems. Sharpe always reminded Blair of one of the *Lone Gunmen* from the classic series, The X-Files. "Hi, Blair. How's the storm trooper." Sharpe really liked Sandburg, enjoyed his intelligence and his seemingly boundless enthusiasm for life and learning. That liking was the only reason he still let him come around now that he had a sentinel. A sentinel... How the hell does the kid stand it?

"Jim's fine, thanks, and don't call him that. I've told you before, Colin, he's one of the good guys."

"You mean he doesn't make you kneel to him..." There was disbelief in Sharpe's voice. A loyal member of the Guide Liberation Army, he still couldn't believe there was such a thing as a tolerant sentinel, much less a caring one.

"No, like I said, he's good to me, Colin. He treats me as if I was a regular human. I feel... safe... when he's around, Colin. You know what I mean?"

Sharpe studied the younger man. Safe! I wish I even remembered what that felt like... but if anyone needs, deserves to feel safe it's Blair. Sharpe was sometimes aware that his paranoia might be a little over the top but it had kept him and his group safe so far. Deep blue eyes were still waiting for his response. "Okay, Sandburg, I got it this time. Jim's not your usual run of sentinel, but then again, I doubt very much that you're the usual run of guide, kid." Sharpe grinned at the blush that rose up the younger man's face and said quickly, "So, what can I do for you this time?"

"I need you to look at this photograph for me. For some reason, Jim saw it and zoned and I want to know why. He thinks he sees structures there."

Colin scanned the photo into the computer; his fingers flew over the keyboard, magnifying, enhancing each part of the picture. Finally, he sat back. "Well the picture's too grainy to get much. Ellison's right, there is some sort of structure there, but beyond that, Blair, it's a no go."

He handed it back and watched as Sandburg pulled some money from the threadbare canvas folder he used as a wallet. Colin was one of the few people Blair had trusted with the information that Jim had given him an ATM card for his TA salary. Sharpe knew how little that actually was but Sandburg had always been fiercely independent, determined to pay his own way. That hadn't changed, it seemed.

"No charge, Blair, it's not like I actually found anything." Colin pushed the $50 back into the empath's hand. "Watch your back, okay? I found traces of someone hacking into your GDP files."

"It's sealed in Major Crimes..." Sandburg's eyes had widened in response to the threat implied by the interest in his files.

"Blair, there is no such thing as total computer security. They hacked it before the file was sealed. I tried to trace it but it was a no go. So just watch yourself, kid, I don't want to lose you." Sharpe's eyes held real concern.

"Thanks, man. For this..." Blair held up the photo... "and for the warning."

Sharpe nodded acceptance of both thanks. He didn't like the shadows he'd put into the kid's eyes but better forewarned than unprepared.

0-0-0-0-0-0--0

Blair walked across the campus heading to the GDP office. He forced himself to remain calm, to not think about someone hacking his files. He had only one more day of detention and then he was free. That had been the deal Jim had cut with Lieutenant Harris when he had been picked up during a raid. For the past thirteen days, whenever he wasn't teaching or at lectures or study group, he had reported to the GDP office. He was put out that he couldn't use his *new* car to come to work, but the GDP had stipulated that his sentinel had to deliver him to, and pick him up from, the GDP station every day. It was a form of house arrest, but one he could live with and Jim didn't seem to mind. On the good side, in one day's time he would have his own wheels again, something he hadn't had since he was twenty-two, before the GDP and Alex. Everything in his life seemed to boil down into those words "before the GDP and Alex," "After the GDP and Alex." Maybe he should put a more positive spin on his mental benchmarks... before Jim and after Jim. Blair smiled at that thought and a young woman jogging by, turned to look back at him. Speaking of Jim and the car... he made a mental note to pick up a parking permit. He hated to think what his anal partner would think of parking tickets.

Blair hefted his backpack and continued to muse about his sentinel. Jim was always in Blessed Protector mode when he picked him up. He would totally ignore the watching GDP to pull him close and run his hands over him. He could almost feel the senses wrapping around him as he was checked over for the slightest injury. The one time he had accidentally tripped in his holding cell, banging his head and cutting his lip, he had had to plaster himself against Jim to calm him down. Jim had smelled the blood and seen the bruise and protective instincts exploded into what could have been a dangerous situation. Blair grinned again... it was a morning for smiles... Lieutenant Harris had actually thanked him the next morning for defusing his sentinel. There was respect in the officer's eyes that Blair had never expected to see in any GDPer's gaze.

Things had been a little easier at the station after that incident. Blair had been surprised to find that most of the Rainier GDP were not like others he had met during his horrific association with the organisation. Some of them actually seemed to feel they were, in fact, helping guides and sentinels. Even so, Blair's heart was beating a little faster as he entered the GDP office and recognized the officer on duty as Knight. The man was dealing with a group of school children and Blair hid a grin. He knew how much the station personnel *loved* Dexter's Public Relations exercises. The Rainier Office was a showplace since the University offered sponsorship placement to students joining the GDP recruitment program. He recognized Daryl Banks as one of the students and sighed as he saw the boy nudge his companions. He didn't know what he had done to make the Captain's son hate him... but he was almost certain he did.

Blair scrawled his signature in the log book and started to head back to *his* cell. The last couple of days, he had actually been allowed to get some work done and it had helped him to get caught up. No one interrupted him at the GDP station. Blair caught his breath as he recognized the officer coming out of Lieutenant Dexter's office. Captain Gross! Images from the Sanctuary when this man had him leashed flashed through his mind. This was one of the times that Blair wished he had his partner's stoic face. Gross turned to him and smiled. That smile chilled the empath to the bone.

Gross smiled brighter as he saw the battered backpack clutched tighter to the guide's chest as if it were some sort of shield. Oh, yes, this one remembered him and he certainly remembered the boy's terror. Time for a little fun.

"Officer Dexter, I am sure that the children would be interested in seeing a guide put through his paces. It is not something you have an opportunity to see every day."

Blair didn't have to glance around to see who he was talking to or about. Didn't need to hear the silky voice bark, "Guide, show your respect" to know he was in trouble.

Blair quickly folded down on his knees. His face heated as he heard the children's callous comments. All he wanted to do was curl up and die before the full humiliation started. Dexter's voice cut in, "With respect, Sir, I don't think that his sentinel would be too happy about this. Sentinel Prime Ellison is rather particular about his guide's treatment."

"So I have heard. Jimmy was not fully trained in guide care and it shows. I'm sure that he will get a lot out of the training I have scheduled for him."

Sure, he will, if he doesn't tear your throat out first. He is not going to be happy with you. Blair mused, not a little comforted that no matter what Gross chose to do, Jim would be there for him. This isn't Before Jim anymore. He thought back to the Conference, to what Jim had told him then. It's a role, I'm just an actor in a play. It's not really me.

"You know Sentinel Prime Ellison?" Dexter asked cautiously. Somehow, she didn't think it was a connection the sentinel would have encouraged.

"Old friends." Gross smiled at the lieutenant before turning to the audience of interested students. "Now, when a sentinel is working with a properly trained guide, he doesn't even have to talk to him or her. He can direct him by hand signals. If a working guide needs to lower his barriers, he adopts the working position so that any citizen will know that he is vulnerable to touch." Gross moved over by Blair and hand signaled him into the working guide position. Gross smiled as he felt the small tremors running through the young empath as he leaned against his leg.

"Now, since the Sentinel Prime is not here, I will not suggest that his guide lower his barriers. That would be unkind and we are not here to hurt guides. The GDP's function is to help them achieve their maximum potential. Later, I am sure Officer Dexter will show you the Guide College and then the Sentinel Institute. The Guide, at the moment, is in the working position. If you ever come across a Guide in this position you must remove yourself from the location so as not to interfere with the sentinel's work. Now, when bonding they adopt the submissive posture. Belly, Guide."

Blair dropped down onto his hands to break his fall; his hands went to the small of his back as the coarse carpet pressed against his face. He tuned out the lecture and bit down on his lip. Soon it will be over soon. Those words became his mantra as Gross's ankle pressed against his thigh. Blair shuddered briefly as the Captain's foot worked its way under his body where it had no business being.

Gross pulled his foot back into proper position after he got the reaction he'd wanted and continued smoothly, "The sentinel will connect to his guide by placing his foot like this. At certain times a guide may become rogue. This is very sad, for the guide and society. Usually they are misguided"... Gross smiled at his own intentional pun and frowned when the kids missed it... " They need gentle but firm handling for them to regain their direction in life. That is where you will come in if you join us. Ours is a teaching profession. We help guide and sentinel come together to serve the community." He bent down and placed his hand on the back of the guide's neck, the finger pattern indicating that Blair should kneel.

Blair pulled his knees under him, hands returning to the small of his back. Head down, he leaned against Gross' hip. He could feel Gross' emotions and Blair had to fight not to panic. He was little more than a barely tolerated performing animal to the captain and Gross was fighting an almost overwhelming need to put him in his place. Only the presence of witnesses held him in check.

Harris replaced his phone in the cradle. Then he got to his feet and smiled to himself. The lieutenant did not like what Gross was doing to the young empath. Somehow, what Harris had always accepted as normal training practice became an indignity when used on this particular guide. He went out into the outer office where Gross was holding court, giving the fascinated children a taste of how it felt to have control over another person... and enjoy it.

"Captain Gross, Sentinel Prime Ellison telephoned to say that he's on his way here." He kept the amusement out of his voice and face as he saw Gross stop his explanation and take a hurried step away from the Guide. So hurried, that Sandburg almost overbalanced. Harris wondered if anyone else heard the nervousness in the captain's voice as he quickly said,

"I am sure that Officer Dexter can finish explaining the Guide Development Program to you. Dismissed, Guide."

Blair got to his feet and snagged his backpack. He cast a grateful glance at Harris and stopped when he saw Knight hovering in the background. Officer Knight had always treated him like dirt but this time he saw something in the man's face that hadn't been there before. Something that almost looked like sympathy and maybe even a touch of respect.

"Guide Sandburg... Room 24." Knight said it casually. That was the room he used when all he had to do was stay at the station. When they let him work. Coming from Knight, it was almost a declaration of support.

"Officer Knight." He tried to keep his feelings out of his voice. He found himself unexpectedly grateful for the familiar confines of Room 24. Blair put his backpack down on the table, his hands shaking badly. Simon's son had been there again, had seen him down on his knees again. He shivered. The children's excitement, and Gross' arousal, had battered his barriers badly. He needed to connect with Jim. There was a noise at the door and Blair tried to school his expression before he looked up. Officer Knight was standing there. But this time, even with his barriers almost gone, Blair didn't feel the disgust usually aimed at him from Knight's direction. "I'll switch the damper on, guide."

"Thank you, Officer." Blair sighed in relief as the walls emitted the electrical pulses that mimicked a restful mind. It helped to diminish his awareness of the human emotions in the station's ambient. He pulled his books out of the backpack and tried to study the text in front of him. The words danced in front of his eyes without conveying any meaning. He shut the book and began to look at the blue books he had to grade that night, all seventy-three of them. He found his mind couldn't concentrate on them either, so he turned to the dig folder. He let his hand run over it and a twinge of excitement replaced the trauma of Gross' exhibit. I am actually going on a dig! He still could not quite believe it.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Jim entered the station in full Blessed Protector mode. Knight immediately got to his feet; he had been there when Ellison had gone ballistic because his guide had been hurt in an accident. And he'd never forget the time he'd forgotten to call the sentinel and left the guide leashed for three hours. He could afford no more mistakes. "He's in Room 24, Sentinel Prime."

He got a terse nod but he thought the sentinel had relaxed somewhat. Thank heavens for Room 24! Knight grinned as he wondered what Gross would say about the kind of "disciplining" that went on in that particular room. Lately, Sandburg seemed almost relieved to enter its door. The hours spent waiting for his sentinel were productive ones, free from distractions, and it was an open secret that many a cup of tea found its way to the young scholar's table.

As soon as Ellison entered the room, he locked his senses onto Blair. There was a sense of immense relief as they told him his guide was unhurt. Blair looked up at his entrance and immediately crossed to him, reaching out for his sentinel. Ellison pulled him into a brief hug and asked against the top of a curly head, "Blair, are you..."

"I'm okay, Jim. No harm done." Blair assured his sentinel as the strong arms around him chased away the last of the lingering nightmares.

"You're my Guide and my friend. No one does that to you." He started to turn away from Blair ready to find and do battle with Gross. He was caught and pulled back by his guide's hand. For a moment the Dark Sentinel's light blue eyes locked on the deeper blue of the Dark Guide's. There was a battle of wills for one long moment before the sentinel nodded, a little shamefaced.

Blair's lips twisted up at the corners knowing he had won. He patted Jim's shoulder, relaxing now that his sentinel was here.

"I would like to leave now, Jim." He started to get his books and work into some semblance of order.

Jim looked down at the desk and saw the set of aerial photographs among the rest of the academic clutter. "Busy, Chief?" He teased gently, thankful that after a rocky first week, his young guide had managed to win concessions even from the GDPers who were his jailers.

"Not busy enough. I didn't even begin to get through the blue books. Long night ahead of me." His voice showed that he would not swap that long night and what it meant for the world. His voice was slightly puzzled as he went on, "Jim, you're early. What happened to the stakeout?"

"Simon said to pick you up first, didn't want to leave you here longer than I had to." His voice trailed off as he caught sight of the picture Sharpe had enhanced. He leaned over his guide's shoulder, his hand hovering over it. Gray began to fill his vision.

"Jim. Jim!" Blair felt Ellison zoning. The young guide quickly reached for the statue his sentinel had become. He made contact; one hand against the broad chest and the other stroking Jim's shoulder and arm. He connected through the link and sent reassurance through their bond. His voice was soothing as it dropped to guide level, "Jim, you have to come back now. Follow my voice back." His emotions backed up his words. Finally, he noticed the clenched jaw slowly easing, and, with a sharp intake of breath, his sentinel returned to him.

"What happened?" Ellison sounded confused.

"We'll talk later, just take deep breaths for now." Blair started to turn away to get his backpack ready to go. Strong hands grabbed him and pulled him against a tall body.

"Don't break the link, Blair. Please, I've got to feel you."

There was an edge to Jim's voice, a neediness, that Blair hadn't heard before.

"Sure, Jim, we can do that. Truth be told, I could use a little connection myself. Just turn me loose enough to get packed up here."

Jim kept one hand on his shoulder as Blair scooped the papers and books scattered over the table into the backpack. Only when Blair had the battered satchel swung over his shoulder in its accustomed place and had tangled one hand in the back of his jacket and sent the other fluttering over his shoulder, did Jim release his hold. The connection between then was centering and calming him after the sudden sense of threat against his guide sent him reeling. He could not pin down the source. It had just exploded in his mind and body and then disappeared as his guide called to him. Blair was too precious to him to risk losing him. The episode, whatever it was, had sent him straight to Blessed Protector mode. He was still wary as they left Room 24.

Blair was standing just behind Jim's shoulder, one hand still holding onto the back of his jacket, the other tucked into the backpack's strap. Ellison knew his aggressive wariness was very close to the surface and that it was hard on his guide but the sense of threat still lingered. Blair's barriers were gone, or near enough to gone that he would have to help him build them up as soon as they got home. That couldn't come soon enough to suit him. And they still had to get past the outer office and the horde of students who were just returning from a trip to the Guide College.

He glared at Officer Dexter as she opened her mouth to speak to him. She turned back to the students. Ellison tried to tune out the children's voices, to focus on the increasing heart rate of the younger man beside him. A familiar voice caught his attention. He clearly heard the obscenity Daryl Banks used in connection with his guide. His ice-cold eyes fixed on the culprit and he had the satisfaction of seeing the boy blush nervously. He was ready to take it further but Blair's soft voice stopped him. "Peer pressure, Jim, he has to fit in and he's already a police captain's son. He doesn't really mean it."

Blair patted Jim's shoulder as the sentinel let it drop but he knew that the Blessed Protector wouldn't forget or forgive the kid for saying that, not any time soon.

Finally, they were out of the office and Blair sighed in a steadying breath of relief as he was installed in the truck by a hovering sentinel.

"I heard what happened. Sorry about that, Chief."

"It wasn't your fault, Jim. That guy Gross is a jerk, big time. Pretty apt name for him, Gross, I mean." Ellison relaxed even more as Blair chuckled at his own small joke. "It was lucky you rang, though. The good captain almost broke a leg getting out of there." I'm glad you can find something funny about it, Chief. I just want to tear someone's head off! Still, it had told him something about the effect his young partner was having on the station personnel.

"I didn't call, Chief. Harris tipped me off." Jim waited while Blair thought about that statement.

"So, another one of the good guys, you think? Or just feeling guilty?"

"Jury is still out on that one, Chief. Let's get you home." He paused, not really wanting to know but needing to know. "What did Gross want?"

"Um... he put me through the guide paces for the kids." He added quickly as he felt Jim's anger simmer, "Easy, big guy, he didn't hurt me." Blair couldn't help but smile as he thought of his sentinel's probable reaction to his next revelation. "Hey, Jim, he said that he had you down for guide care lectures."

"He WHAT?"

"That's what he told them." Ellison seesawed between anger at Gross and relief that his guide could still see some humor in the situation. He felt the warmth of his guide's hand on his leg and his presence in the back of his mind and sighed. They'd get home and bond and then do the Miller stakeout.

Blair curled up in the passenger seat, connecting with Jim physically and emotionally as his sentinel fussed over him, making sure his seat belt was secure. Jim was still muttering under his breath as he put the truck into gear but the anger had been replaced with purpose. Blair let himself drift....

Jim steered his drowsy guide into the elevator. Hetty was just coming out and stopped at seeing the young empath tucked under his sentinel's arm. "Jim?"

"Busy day at the University, Hetty." Ellison reassured her. He nudged Sandburg's ribs and the younger man woke up enough to mumble, "Hey, Mrs. Sanders. Don't forget 'bout dinner. 'kay?" The little woman said warmly, "I won't, dear. Now you go get some rest."

"Huh? I don't need any rest. Hey, we're home. How, Jim..." Hetty Sanders smiled as the elevator door closed on the confused guide. Maybe she'd bring an apple pie next week.

"Okay, Junior, on the couch. We've got bonding to do. Unless you want to eat first?"

Blair shivered a little as the security of the loft and his sentinel's presence let him lower the guards he'd placed on the upset of the day. "I'm not really hungry right now, Jim."

Ellison nodded, neither was he and he wouldn't be until he was sure that his guide was all right. He took the backpack from the younger man and set it down beside the sofa. A hand on Blair's shoulder drew him down next to him on the sofa. "Jim?" There was puzzlement in Sandburg's voice. Ellison said softly, "We're going to try something here, junior. I want you to just sit quietly and put your head down, right over my heart."

"Jim? I don't understand..."

"It occurred to me last night that I get a heck of a lot more from these bondings than you do... ah...ah.. not a word about the way it is supposed to be, Junior. You've had a hell of a day after a worse two weeks, but it's over. No more restriction, no more GDamnP discipline. I want you to relax and let it all go."

This wasn't how it was supposed to go... but Jim's hand somehow eased his head onto his sentinel's chest. Jim's heart thumped soothingly in his ear as his back was rubbed with a big hand that unerringly found all the tight wound muscles. Blair drew his legs up on the cushions, relaxing into the solid comfort of his sentinel's presence. He tentatively reached for their bond and a flood of affection and protection poured into him, rebuilding his barriers, lifting his heart. How does he always know what I need? "Go to sleep, Chief. We've got time for a nap before your meeting and my stakeout." Ellison felt the curly head nod against his chest as tension melted from the smaller body curled next to him. Soon, he felt the regular breaths of sleep against his neck as he absentmindedly carded through his guide's hair. One of Cascade's sudden storms darkened the sky and sent raindrops splattering against the skylight. Jim pulled the blanket around Blair's body and watched the sky. He remembered holding Stephen like this when they were kids and his brother had had a nightmare. That trust had ended all too soon when his father had driven them apart. He wasn't too surprised to discover that thinking of his energetic young guide as a brother seemed right...

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The Miller stakeout was a pain. Absolutely nothing was happening; the man was living like a monk. At this point, they would have been happy to get him for littering let alone for the half a million drug laundering operation of which he was the suspected head. Jim's mind was on his guide. Blair had woken from his nap with his barriers and his energy restored. The ending of the GDP restriction had restored his enthusiasm and he had regaled Ellison with tales from the University that had the older man laughing his head off. And silently promising himself to attend the University's soccer games. It appeared as if his guide had found a whole cadre of Blessed Protectors in the soccer team.

Jim knew that Sandburg faced unpleasantness at the University because of his status as a guide but it sounded as if the positive outweighed the negative experiences. And nothing called for more enthusiasm than the forthcoming dig. Blair was convinced that it would shed more light on the ancient sentinels and guides. Jim knew that Sandburg was especially ecstatic that he was going to be able to share his world with his sentinel. Ellison had seen his ebullient young partner off to an early evening meeting at the University before heading off to the stakeout. Jim had planned to go with Blair to the meeting as it was for the digging team assigned to the Croxley excavations but the Miller stakeout had taken precedence. He had wanted to get a look at the people they would be camping with for a few weeks, make sure no one would try to cause trouble for his resident anthropologist. Something was niggling in the back of his mind, a feeling of danger... Ellison decided he was definitely going to check out the dig members.

It was midnight when he got back to the loft. He aurally scanned the small room and didn't find his guide's heartbeat. He immediately checked the answering machine, no messages. Hitting the speed dial for Blair's cell phone, he swore when informed that it was switched off. Concern and worry vied together for control of the sentinel's emotions And waited... and waited...

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Blair gave the other students in the van a wave and then walked into Hargrove Hall. Aaron Baker, one of the dig supervisors had insisted on driving all the anthro students, to the pub, leaving their cars outside of Hargrove Hall, he had lost the toss, and was the designated driver for the evening. They had started the discussion on the way over. The meeting itself had been a good one. He was surprised at just how much he missed the buzz of getting ready for fieldwork. The actual meeting had started at 8:00 p.m. In addition to the three Anthro majors he had driven over with, there were several archaeology minors he had already met and another couple he had seen around the campus. They weren't friends but Blair knew that digs had a way of causing lasting friendships or deep enmity.

Blair tucked his folder of photographs and excavations plans under his arm and headed up the steps to his office. He'd collect his keys and head on home before Jim got home and worried. He couldn't wait to tell the older man how well it had gone. The meeting had been a bit stilted at first but when he had shown them Colin's enhanced photos the others had thawed somewhat. He had accepted their invitation to go for a drink afterwards and that's what made him late. He had insisted on fruit juice but their initial teasing had quickly moved back to matters archaeological and anthropological. Blair had been delighted to discover that he was getting on with his future dig mates. They were still chatting when Blair got Aaron to drop him back at Hargrove.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Jim started to get worried. He snagged his car keys and headed for the Campus, if the kid was going to be late he would have at least called in.

The Mortar Board was *the* campus pub, complete with darts and pool tables, video games and draft beer. The drink and food was cheap and plentiful so it was the preferred watering hole of the students and younger Faculty members. It was not a place much frequented by cops as the owner was a retired policeman who was known to run a law-abiding place.

The sentinel ignored the looks he was getting from the students, as the word went around that a cop was in the place. He scanned the room, dialing down his senses to prevent an overload on the smell of drinks and food. He recognized Carol Reeves and crossed over to the table she was sharing with half a dozen other young men and women. She smiled. "Can I help you, Detective Ellison?"

"Blair Sandburg, where is he?" Jim's worry came out as aggression. Reeves wasn't fooled.

"Isn't he at home?" She sounded concerned. "He left two hours ago."

"What?"

"He was at the meeting with us all, then he had to go. Aaron dropped him off at Hargrove hours ago." A tall lanky ginger haired student nodded agreement,

"He said he needed to collect some papers and his keys before he headed home."

Jim Ellison was already heading out of the pub and reaching for his cell phone. A curt call to Nancy Hong had the door to Hargrove Hall opened and the security chief waiting for Jim at the front entrance. The sentinel took the steps two at a time. The corridors were silent but for their ringing footsteps and the slow pounding of his guide's heartbeat. May be he dropped asleep, in which case Jim was going to kill him right after he hugged him. No, it was freezing here, the kid couldn't sleep in the cold. At the door, his worst fears were realized. He smelled the coppery odor of blood as Nancy fumbled with the keys. Too impatient, too worried, to wait until she found the right key, the sentinel booted the door down with one kick. His eyesight zoomed in on his guide and he cursed himself for ignoring the niggling sense of danger he'd felt on the stakeout.

Sandburg was laying on the floor, his hands secured behind his back with parcel tape, a thick piece of it over his mouth. His ankles were bound together and he was curled on his side, unconscious. His clothes were in a neat pile on the floor, as if to point out the care his attackers had taken with his garments as opposed to the careless way they had handled his person. His guide's... Blair's naked body was covered in graffiti, courtesy of the red marking pens on the floor by the desk. Nancy Hong gave a gasp at the obscenities but pulled out her cell phone and dialed 911.

Jim tuned her out, his hands moving swiftly over his partner, checking for damage. The tape had been wrapped around his wrists and then up to his elbows, increasing the pressure on his shoulders. Jim went through the kid's clothes' pockets and pulled out his Swiss Army knife. He carefully cut through the tape and eased his guide's arms around before rolling him onto his back. He released his ankles and then slowly tried to peel off the tape on his mouth, trying not to pull the skin. "He's been chloroformed." Over his shoulder, he snapped "On the bottom shelf by the door, there should be a blanket. Can you..."

Nancy handed him the blanket and watched as the big cop moved with more gentleness than she thought him capable of to wrap it around the young man. "He's been having trouble with some of the students but I didn't think that they would go this far. I am sorry, Jim."

"Not as sorry as they will be, Nancy, I can promise you that."

Jim thanked God that he had insisted that Blair keep the blanket in his office. He needed to conceal the kid from the eyes that would soon appear in answer to Hong's phone call. As he tucked his guide's left arm under its warmth, he noticed a small bruise on the inside of his elbow. The chloroform had been a blind. This wasn't a student attack; this was more sinister. Then his eyes lit on an object under the desk. He reached for it and swore as he pulled out a leash. What the hell had they, whoever "they" were, been up too?

0-0-0--0-0-0-0-0-00

Blair didn't have to have sentinel senses to hear Jim prowling up and down the hospital corridor like an angry panther. Ellison had made a nuisance of himself, getting in the doctor's and nurses' ways until they were ready to sedate him. When Blair had finally started to come around, it had only gotten worse. Ellison's constant glaring at the slightest moan of pain from his guide had the medical personnel too nervous to do their jobs. In the end, Blair had taken pity on them and ordered his sentinel out.

If he had not felt so wretched, Blair would have smiled at the surprised look they gave him when the *big bad sentinel* left on his command. But by then, he had his face in a bucket as the chloroform played havoc with his stomach. He missed his sentinel's comforting presence if not the commotion his mere *angry* presence wrought.

Commander Slater hurried into the emergency room. Nancy Hong had made one other call after she called the paramedics and the police. Slater made a mental note to thank the Campus security chief later for her co-operation. The GDP commander paused as he caught sight of the sentinel he had come to find. Ellison was standing stock still, his head tilted to one side...

Ellison might have been tossed out of the cubicle but he would be damned if he didn't stay on guard. Too late, sentinel, Blair needed you earlier. Still, he listened into the conversation between the medics, making sure they treated his guide with respect. That, at least, he could do. His head snapped around and Commander Slater jerked his hand back from where he had rested it on Jim's arm.

"Sorry, Jim, I thought you had zoned."

"Can't I stand still without you or Simon or someone thinking I've zoned?"

"Sorry," the commander's hands came up in a gesture of appeasement.

"How is he?" That would distract him from his grievances.

"He's going to be okay. He inhaled chloroform, it's upsetting his stomach, but that's to be expected. They're"... he tipped his head to one side, "they're giving him something for the nausea. The doctor just said they'll release him once they get the blood work back."

"Blood work?"

"He was injected with something, Slater. I want to know what it was."

Finally, the doctor came out. "Senior Sentinel Prime Ellison, your guide is ready to go home now. The blood work came back and identified the drug as a heavy sedative manufactured for GDP use only. It is not on the market, you need a license to purchase it. We keep a supply here at the hospital in case we need to sedate an overloaded guide. There are no lasting side effects. The chloroform was overkill, they certainly did not need it to keep Mr. Sandburg out."

"My guide was naked when I found him but I could sense no signs that he had been... assaulted. Can you confirm that?"

"You are correct, whoever attacked him, did not touch him."

"Oh, they touched him, Doctor. Maybe not that way but they touched him."

Just then Jim heard a metal bowl hit the floor and the sentinel pushed past the doctor and yanked the curtain back. Blair was backed into a corner and Jim felt a sinking sensation as he looked at his guide's eyes. The young man wasn't really there. His shaky, "Get your hands off me." Was echoed by his sentinel's roar, "Get your hands off him."

The nurse backed off. "Sentinel, I was only trying to help him dress."

"It's okay, I'll handle it."

Jim took the clothes from her and walked forward. "Come on, Chief, we need to get you dressed and home." Jim waited until he saw understanding come back into the deep blue eyes. Then memory crossed the young face and Jim watched the pain blossom.

"How many people know?" Those few words were heart breaking to his sentinel.

"As few as possible. Come on, kiddo. We even have the Commander playing chauffeur for us."

"Slater's here?" There was still enough confusion in the blue eyes to tell Jim that Sandburg had not yet thrown off all the effects of the drugs. He kept up a soothing chatter as he guided the younger man out into the hall.

"Sure, trying to do your job. But your employment is safe. He couldn't tell a zone from a hole in the wall. I was just standing there thinking and he goes to general quarters on me."

"E...easy mistake, big guy, you don't do it often enough for people to... recognize the symptoms." The words were slightly shaky, but Blair was trying.

Jim laughed. "See that, Slater, my own guide is turning against me."

Slater didn't even hesitate. "I wouldn't say that, Sentinel. He's just intelligent enough to know that you'd catch him in a lie."

"Come on, Chief, lets get you home."


	10. Chapter 10

The next day, Jim sought out Commander Dan Slater, their resident member of the GDP and one of only two that Jim would tolerate near his guide. Even so, the commander was all too aware that it was a privilege the Dark Sentinel refused to all others. To James Ellison, Dark Sentinel, the Dark Guide was a treasure that he would protect against all comers, official or otherwise.

Slater also noticed that the sentinel had waited for his guide to leave the office to collect a file and that he made sure the grad student was well clear before approaching him.

Ellison didn't bother with pleasantries. "Did you find out anything about the drug?" Before giving him a chance to answer, the sentinel continued, "And what the hell is Gross doing at the university?"

"Captain Gross? I thought he was still at the Sanctuary."

"No. He was at the Rainier GDP station. The bastard put Sandburg through his paces in front of a gang of High School students just for the hell of it. One of whom was Simon's son."

"I'll have a listen to the grapevine and see if I can find out what he's up to. I don't like the idea that he's sniffing around Rainier." To himself he added, and especially around the dark guide. "I haven't had any luck tracking down the source of the drug so far but I will keep looking."

Slater stopped talking as Ellison swung toward the doorway. The guide was just returning, he pulled the file closer to him as he saw Slater watching him. He immediately looked for his sentinel; seeing him, he visibly relaxed.

The phone on the desk rang and Blair reached for it. His face suddenly froze and Jim extended his hearing. The obscenity that poured over the line was reason enough for the increase in his guide's heartbeat. The detective grabbed the phone from his guide's hand and covered the mouthpiece. He snapped, "Rafe, get a trace on this."

"You're nothing by a fucking whore. A guide is a tool, nothing more, less than nothing... he's a slave - leave the University to your betters, slave..."

Jim's hand tightened on the phone, then it went dead.

"Rafe?" The name was a demand.

"Sorry, Jim, too short a call."

"I want that bastard, Rafe. He had the balls to call the police station." Jim's snarl promised retribution.

The sentinel slammed the phone back on the hook and looked down at his pale faced guide. He dropped a hand on the slender shoulder and his fingers unconsciously massaged the tight muscles.

"How you doing, Chief? Okay?"

"I'm okay, Jim. I guess I should have expected something like this." For one moment, his voice held a note of defeat, then his head snapped up and the blue eyes blazed with determination. "But I am there to stay. I'm getting my PhD and teaching no matter who says different."

Jim's pride in his guide was there for anyone to see. Instead of retreating into himself, or behind his sentinel, his guide had pulled himself together to face this head on. Jim just hoped that *they...* the ubiquitous, bigoted *they* never managed to tarnish the bright spirit that had brought so much light to his world. They wouldn't if one sentinel detective had anything to say about it.

Alan Fraser cut across the parking lot behind Hargrove Hall, trying to save time. He'd convinced the coach to let him leave practice a little early but even with that he didn't know if he could still catch the Prof before he left for the day. And he really needed to catch him. He had an anthropology essay to write and he had to get at least a B to keep his grades up. The article about the Horvic Tribe he was hoping to use was completely lost on him and he hoped that a chat with Blair Sandburg could clear it up for him. He really needed the grade.

His attention was drawn to a group of students clustered around a car. They were messing around, laughing and joking. At first he didn't think anything of it but then he saw the spray cans. They had already done some damage. Alan hesitated, not sure whether to confront them or try to sneak by and call security from Hargrove. The decision was made for him when the owner of the vehicle suddenly appeared, running toward and yelling at the vandals. Sh**, can't he catch a break! Alan began to close on them from the opposite direction.

The students scattered and Alan didn't know who to follow, especially since his attention was really on the owner of the vandalised car. The young man stood in front of the small, gray car unmoving. Deep blue eyes stared at the white foam spelling out "GDP Property - Guide." What is wrong with people? The Prof goes out of his way to help anyone and everyone and this is what he gets? Alan wasn't sure if Professor Sandburg would want him to see the graffiti but he needed to be sure the man was all right. The soccer player didn't like the stillness in that slender form.

Alan dropped a hand on Sandburg's shoulder and the smaller man turned fast, twisting away, hands coming up to block an attack.

"Woah. Careful, Prof, I'm one of the good guys. Man, where'd you learn to move like that?" There was a tone of admiration in the student's voice that would have done Blair a world of good if he had been in any condition to register it.

"Sorry, Alan. Oh, man. Jim's going to kill me," the despair was plain in the guide's voice.

"Did you recognise any of the students, Mr. Sandburg?"

"No, I didn't get close enough. Damn. It's never ending." Blair pulled out a cell phone and sighed. "I'd better call it in to Campus Security."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Blair shook his head and glared at the security vehicle that slid into gear and rolled away. He'd gotten just about as much help as he'd expected, that is to say, none. The guards were *so* apologetic but it just didn't seem worth wasting time on a student prank. One of the guards had muttered just before turning away, "Can't stand the heat, Guide, get out of the kitchen." Blair wrapped his arms around him, shivering a bit as he dealt with the disgust that the man had projected right at him.

Blair glanced at his watch. "Thanks for coming across, Alan. I have to get to class, I'll sort this mess out later."

"Er, if you'll trust me with your keys, I'll put it through the car wash before this stuff dries on. Only cost you a pizza."

Blair tried to decide if it was worth letting his sentinel look over the car before cleaning it. That would mean letting it sit in the lot for everyone to see... Blair looked at his student, judging him carefully. Alan and the others had always been fair to him. He nodded. "Done."

Blair handed the keys across. "Thanks, Alan. What were you doing here anyway? I thought you had practice?"

Alan shrugged. "Coach let me out early. I was hoping I could talk to you about this article I found before I write my paper."

Blair smiled. The fact that Alan was coming to see him, wanting help with an assignment, made him feel even better than the offer to clean his car did. At least some people see me as a teacher! "I'll be in my office later, Alan."

Alan watched the young teaching fellow walk away, his usual bounce repressed. This shit was going to stop and stop now, Alan vowed. He was not going to see HIS Mr. Sandburg treated as rubbish by a few bigoted jerks. He was pretty sure he had recognised some of the students, especially the Newman girl. She ran with a small gang, some of whom were in Anthro 101. They always sat at the front of Mr. Sandburg's class and seemed to take great pleasure in trying to throw the Teaching Assistant off his stroke. Alan grinned. Mr. Sandburg knew his stuff too well for that to work. The soccer captain nodded to himself, he was going to watch them closely and he knew where he could find help.

0-0-0-0-0--0--0-0

The day was progressing slowly. The sentinel sighed as he looked at the growing mound of paperwork on his desk. Simon wanted the report NOW so it wasn't as if he could leave it until Blair came in the next day. For one selfish moment he let himself wonder what it would be like to have Blair's bright presence next to him all the time. He'd run you ragged in a week, Ellison, kid's got more energy than a football team.

The phone rang and broke into his musings. "Ellison," he growled his standard greeting. His face became serious. There had been a hit and run at the University and murder was suspected.

0-0--0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The crime scene was easy to spot by the array of official vehicles and the crowd of onlookers trying to rubberneck and see what was going on.

Jim pulled into a spot marked, "campus security" and lowered his visor so the PD official business card showed. He climbed out of the truck and tried to convince himself that he'd rather be here than doing paperwork. But he didn't want to think that any trouble happened at the University. It was too close to his trouble magnet guide for his peace of mind. He pushed through the crowd. "Okay, what have we got here?"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The cell phone went off in the middle of the lecture. Startled faces turned to Blair as he dug it out of his backpack and listened to the short message. With a muttered "Sorry," he gathered his books and headed for the nearest exit. Professor Clancy shook his head. "Sandburg."

Blair turned.

"I trust this is important."

"Very, Sir. I am sorry..."

"Chapters nine through thirteen. You can collect the essay question off me later."

"Thank you, sir."

It was a heartfelt statement. Blair was thankful that Professor Clancy had been so reasonable. The professor had a reputation for being a real hard-nosed academic. And he did demand effort from all his students but that wasn't the whole story. Clancy had been supportive when Blair had been a scared 15 year-old trying to survive his freshman year at Rainier. The professor had taken him on his first field trip, nothing exotic, just a jaunt to a local reservation. But that trip had confirmed the young student's love for anthropology. And even though Blair had been "outed" as an empath and was now a guide, Clancy had continued to support him. For that he was grateful.

Blair dug out his police ID and waved it at the police holding the public back. His heart went into his mouth. Jim was standing like a statue, as still as if he were carved from stone. He had zoned big time. A uniform was reaching for Ellison and Blair yelled.

"Don't touch him!"

Something had set Jim off but Blair didn't have time to do research on it now. Blair rested his hand on Jim's shoulder and moved around to face him. His hand pressed against his sentinel's neck. "Feel my hand, Jim, the warmth of it against your skin." He spoke in the "Guide" voice. "Hear my voice and my heart beat. Come on, big guy. I'm getting some hostile looks here. I need you to come back."

Jim was lost in the void -- there was a reason that he was afraid to remember why he didn't want to come out of the zone. Something tried to coax him from the safe place he'd found and he resisted. Then he felt the tug that he'd thought lost forever and Blair was there for him. His voice held the command tone of the guide, the one that he had to obey. It called to him until he felt the heat of his guide's hand. It was burning against his neck. With a loud gasp of air, he was back. His arms reached out and he pulled his guide close to him. He buried his face in the crook of the smaller man's neck and inhaled his guide's scent until it steadied him. Slowly, he raised his head.

"What happened, Jim?" Ellison had never seen the kid so worried.

"The body, it..." Jim nearly zoned again, his hands tightened into Blair's hair, holding his guide against him.

"Easy, Jim, I'm not going anywhere. Think you could turn my hair loose? I don't think bald is my style." The gentle bantering was so much his guide that he finally believed that Blair was there. He relaxed his grip and Blair stepped back to stare up at him with eyes wide with concern.

"You're alive, Chief." It was said with great relief.

"Sure I am. Why would you think otherwi..." Blair turned slightly and his stomach turned over as he saw the body. It was lying like a puppet whose strings had been cut. There was blood on the side of the wall where he had been thrown by the impact with a car. The young man was face down, long dark hair masked his face. Blood had pooled under his chin and stained the collar of a very familiar jacket. *His* jacket. The extra one that Jim insisted he keep in his office in case he needed it. He had lent it to one of his students just that morning until the young man could get to the dorm and get his own.

Books spilled out of the backpack when it ended up on the ground as it dropped from nerveless fingers. God, oh God, oh God! In the midst of his silent litany, understanding came to him. Jim must have smelled his scent on the coat under the blood and he had zoned out thinking that it was his guide's body outlined in Forensics' chalk. Blair shoved his grief for his student's death aside and focused on his sentinel. Jim needed him and Jim was their best chance of finding Jerry's killer.

"Jim, I'm safe. I was in the lecture hall. Safe, man. Listen to me." The last was said with the growl of the dark guide. The commanding tone pulled the sentinel back as he nearly lost himself again in the scent of his *living* guide.

"Sentinel Prime Ellison?"

Jim turned around and saw Dr. Harvey. He straightened up. "I just can't seem to focus on anything right now."

"Your guide isn't helping you?" It was almost an accusation.

"No, Blair's not at fault here. I just can't settle in."

Dr Harvey's breath caught as her gaze switched from Blair to the body and back again. She recognised the scent as that of Jim's guide and knew what the other sentinel was going through. She patted Blair's shoulder. "My apologies, Guide Prime. I can see the problem. Let us try."

Jim nodded and stepped back, his arm snaking out to catch his guide around the waist and pull him close.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

As soon as he saw the sentinel and guide pairing come into the office, Simon Banks yelled, "Ellison, Sandburg, my office NOW."

Simon poured himself a fresh cup of coffee as he nodded them to a seat. "Coffee, Jim? This is a new blend, Colombian with two parts chocolate."

The sentinel waved him off.

"Sandburg?"

"Thanks, Captain." Blair accepted a cup and pulled it close to his body, holding it in both hands. Simon studied the guide a moment. The young empath had come a long way since he was first brought into the station, cuffed and filthy, to bond with an out of control sentinel. But fear responses were still there, among them the one that had him acting as if Simon would grab the drink back.

Simon looked at Blair thoughtfully until he saw the empath move uncomfortably under his gaze.

"Jim, you've been assigned the hit and run at Rainier University. Since Sandburg's on the staff, he might have some insight on what's going on over there. Dan Slater will be your liaison on this one, Jim."

"Why? It's got nothing to do with the GDP. It's a hit and run, pure and simple."

"For your information, Detective, I didn't make Captain by being stupid." Simon's voice took on a command tone. "The victim, Jerry Carver, was wearing Sandburg's coat and, at a distance, he looked like him. That, Detective, is enough to get the GDP looking in our direction. And, Detective, do not keep things from me in the future. I have Dr. Harvey's report in front of me, including her observations of the scent on the coat and your zoning."

Blair put a hand out and connected with his sentinel, not sure how the man would react to the captain's dressing down. Jim's emotions were easy to read. Far from being upset with Banks, he was mainly worried about his guide and his protective instincts were running high.

Banks paused to let his reprimand sink in and then switched tone to one of business as usual. "I want to know all about the Carver kid, his friends, enemies everything. I want to make sure that his resemblance to Sandburg wasn't purely coincidental and Carver was the real target all along. If he was run down because he was wearing Sandburg's jacket, I want to know that too. Does Sandburg have any idea why anyone would want to kill him?"

"I'm here, Captain Banks." Blair said softly.

"Sandburg... I am sorry." Simon kicked himself, talking above the guide as if he wasn't in the room. Banks grinned a little and cut himself some slack. The kid was unnaturally still, not something he normally associated with the guide. No wonder he "overlooked" him.

"I don't know anyone who would want me dead. I mean, there's lots of people who don't want me at Rainier but they wouldn't murder me."

"Don't want you at Rainier? Are you still having problems at the University? I thought that had died down after that attack in your office."

Blair shrugged. "I guess the attack made people back off, afraid they'd be charged with something serious if Jim... I mean, the PD found out they were harassing me."

Simon looked between the sentinel and the guide. If Jim found out they'd be lucky to only be charged. It was obvious that Jim wasn't as sanguine about the state of affairs at Rainier as Sandburg pretended to be. "Detective, you have something to add?" "Blair was sent a letter, Simon. It was pretty obscene. The writer didn't like the fact that he was at Rainier. I've still got it. And he's been getting phone calls. They might have stopped calling here at the station and at the loft but there's been some pretty nasty stuff left on his voice mail at the University."

"How did you... never mind." Blair shut up and found something interesting in his cup of coffee to study.

Ellison answered the unfinished question. "You accessed your voice mail from the loft. When your heart rate climbed, I listened in."

"Man. Don't I get any privacy? It's just some kids, Jim. Nothing to worry about."

Simon almost grinned. Thought you could keep your sentinel in the dark, did you, kid? Then he turned thoughtful. "Okay, Sandburg, has anyone told you that they don't want you there? My experience says that if someone says it to your face they're not the letter writing type, but it would be a starting point."

"Professor Higgins made it pretty clear the other day that I wasn't to attend his class. But," Blair shrugged, "he wouldn't try to kill me. The guy's a respected professor."

"What exactly did he say, Sandburg?" Simon prompted.

"That if I went into his class, department or office he would have the GDP take me away." It was said matter-of-factly as if it hadn't hurt as much as Simon knew it had.

"Sorry you have to put up with that kind of crap, Sandburg. I'm proud of you for sticking with it." Simon said sincerely. It wasn't just empty words; the gruff Captain meant it. Blair felt heat rise in his face. It was almost worth the harassment to hear that from Banks.

A knock on the door interrupted the discussion and Commander Slater entered. His eyes went to Banks and Simon shrugged.

"I got your message, Simon. Are you all right, Blair?"

"Yes, Sir." Blair winced as Jim's hand clamped on his shoulder to halt any attempt to move off the chair into guide position.

"Okay, gentlemen, get to work." Simon added, "Have Dr. Harvey take a look at that letter, Jim." The three men started out of the office and Simon said for Ellison's sentinel ears only, "Jim, if the kid receives any more poison pen letters, I want to know right away." AN almost imperceptible nod acknowledged the order as the sentinel followed his guide and the GDP officer out.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Nothing new had come to light the next morning as Simon Banks stood in front of the board in his office. The big captain looked at the detectives in front of him: Rafe, H, Jenny, and Greg. The last two were new recruits to Major Crime. They were young but they both brought good records from their previous departments. Simon called them to attention and began the briefing.

"Jerry Carver was a sophomore at Rainier, archaeology was his major field with anthropology as a minor." Simon watched as a shiver went through their guide. The use of the past tense was making the student's death real to Sandburg and Simon knew that Carver had been more than just a faceless student to Sandburg. Ellison had told him about walking into Sandburg's lecture hall and the soccer player who had checked him out to make sure he was no threat to the "professor."

"When Carver was struck, he was wearing Sandburg's coat and from a distance they look somewhat alike. It's possible that given the bad feeling about Sandburg being at Rainier that it may have been a deliberate attack by someone who thought Carver was him."

Ellison shook his head as he saw his guide wince. Ah, Chief, this isn't your fault. I told you that. The detective had spent the previous night listening while the younger man had blamed himself for Carver's death. If he hadn't lent Jerry his coat... if he'd never gone back to Rainier... if only he didn't make people hate him... Ellison had watched the grad student pace around the loft, not sure how to help him past this. Then Blair had said, "If only I wasn't an empath, a guide, Jerry would be alive!" Jim had felt panic sweep through him at that statement and snapped, "You saying you don't want to be my guide, Sandburg? Is this somehow my fault?" That had stopped his young guide's pacing. Blair had come over and crouched on the floor in front of the chair Jim was occupying. "No, Jim, its not your fault and... God, Jim, you're the only thing that's keeping me sane! How could I not want to be your guide." Ellison smiled as he remembered the shining blue eyes looking into his own, the smaller hands that had closed over his own as Sandburg pushed his own sorrow away to help his sentinel. Something caused him to look and he saw the Captain scowling at him. Somehow Banks knew that his attention had been elsewhere. Jim shrugged and nodded to let Simon know that all the wool had been gathered and he was paying attention again.

"Sandburg has been the victim of a letter writing campaign and someone even had the nerve to ring him here with an obscene phone call. You all know about the recent attack on him in his office. In front of you are copies of the letters he received. One came yesterday, the day of the killing, and two this morning. The general thrust of the letters is that a guide has no right to be at University and that he should resign before he's made to. This harassment may or may not be connected to the killing but Blair is one of us and I want all the bases covered."

Blair's mouth dropped open at the last comment. Simon called him "one of them," not "Jim's guide" but one of them. The Captain actually thought of him that way. He felt a warm glow.

"Lieutenant Plummer, can you tell us anything about the letters?"

"All three letters were produced on the same machine, a typewriter, not a PC. This actually gives us an advantage since it is much more difficult to identify where an inkjet or laser printed document comes from. Typewriters, on the other hand, have a distinct fingerprint. In this case, a Brothers 1945, a portable non-electric model was used. There's a catalog picture in your case file. If the writer is using a machine this old, then we can probably assume that he's attached to it and isn't going to throw it away any time soon. My people have pinpointed the only two outlets in the area that stock the ink ribbons."

Simon interjected, "Jenny, Greg... get the store locations from Lt. Plummer and see if they can give you a customer list for that model typewriter."

The forensics chief cautioned, "There are many places on the web where you can buy supplies for these older machines, sometimes for less money so don't be surprised if you don't get anything at the stores."

Sandburg shifted uneasily and Banks said, "Something you want to add, Sandburg?"

Blair shrugged. "Well, I saw a lot of the old manual portable typewriters on expeditions. Sometimes you couldn't get ribbons for them so we just re-inked the old ones."

There was a chorus of groans from the detectives as a possible lead seemed to dry up.

Simon jumped in. "Well this isn't the wilds of the Congo so maybe they bought rather than dyed. And don't immediately assume that anyone who bought supplies for a Brothers 1945 is automatically the perp either. When we get this character, I don't want him to walk because some judge decides we hurt his feelings. Got that? Everything by the book." Simon waited until he got nods of agreement from all his detectives

"Ellison will be looking into the hit and run. Commander Slater will be shadowing Sandburg at the University until we have this killer caught."

Blair shot a nervous look at his sentinel. He had assumed that Jim would stay with him. He opened his mouth to protest but seeing the icy look on Jim's face let whatever he had to say remain unsaid. It was obvious to the guide that what Simon had said was news to the sentinel as well. The intercom buzzed on Simon's desk.

"Yes, Rhonda?"

"Chief of Police on line two, Captain."

"Gentlemen and ladies, I want this bastard caught, Now." A tilt of his head at his office door got the detectives moving in that direction as he picked up the phone. Fifteen minutes later Simon came out of his office and handed a file to his secretary. "Get that off to the Chief ASAP, Rhonda. Have one of the uniforms hand carry it." He turned and went back into his office, aware that a pair of sentinel sharp eyes followed his every move.

Simon had only just sat down when the door to his office nearly came off its hinges. Jim Ellison was fuming, as expected. The threat in his body language would have scared a lesser man than Simon Banks. The sentinel was royally pissed and he didn't care if Simon Banks, and half the precinct, knew it.

"What the hell do you mean by Slater is shadowing Sandburg?"

"How many meanings are there, Detective, other than the obvious one? Slater will be with Sandburg until we know if the kid was the target or not." Simon's voice held a warning tone that Ellison chose to ignore.

"Captain... Sandburg is MY Guide. If anyone..."

Blair hesitated outside Banks' office. The loud voices within convinced him that his sentinel needed his calming presence. Neither Sentinel nor Captain agreed. He no sooner opened the door than he was nailed by glares from both men. His sentinel motioned him outside. Simon was more direct. "Out, Sandburg."

Blair hesitated. Jim's emotions were all over the map and it was his job to... "You heard me, Guide, get out." Jim grabbed his shoulder and ushered him firmly outside the office. The door closed with a decided slam and Blair sought refuge in his chair.

Rafe came up and dropped a hand on the young guide's shoulder and cursed himself as he felt Blair start.

"Sorry, Blair, didn't mean to make you jump."

"Not your fault, Rafe. It's their emotions. They're like a tidal wave." Sandburg sounded a little too tired to the young detective. Before he could comment, the phone rang and Blair picked it up. "Detective Ellison's Desk." Rafe watched as Sandburg's face lost color. He didn't need the wave the younger man gave him as the empath hit the record button to know who was on the other end of the line. As Rafe ordered the trace, H. put his head in the Captain's office and broke up the raging argument with a simple, "The perp's on the phone with Sandburg now, sir."

Both men were still angry but Ellison dropped his aggressive stance and moved quickly to his guide's side. He tuned into the phone call and the honey-voiced obscenities came to his ears. His eyes focused on Blair's vital signs. The kid was scared, his fingers white as he gripped the handset. The call ended suddenly.

Rafe shook his head in answer to Jim's questioning glare. "No good. He wasn't on the phone long enough."

Jim pressed the rewind button. "I'm going to need your help, Chief, I want to screen the call."

Blair nodded and moved to stand close to his sentinel, his body pressed against Jim's back. As the sentinel took a seat, Blair set one hand on Jim's left shoulder, the other slowly stroking his right shoulder. "Close your eyes, Jim. Take a deep breath... empty your mind of everything but the tape... ready?" At Ellison's nod, Blair pressed the play button.

Ellison focused in on the voice that spoke hateful words in the tone of a lover. His guide's voice said softly, "Move past the voice, Jim. You've heard it before. Hear what you didn't hear..." Why was it only this easy when Sandburg guided him. The thought flashed through his mind as he filtered the words out and tuned into the background noise. He could hear the sound of a radio. He tightened his focus and almost lost it. The feel of his guide's hands on his shoulders and the pull of Blair's mind through the link grounded him and he was back on the trace. Suddenly the background voices were clear. More than one, a woman... two men... a boy... The last voice was familiar... Ellison flashed back to a teenager thoughtlessly insulting his guide in his father's car. Daryl Banks. Simon's son was involved somehow and Captain's son or not, he was going to get to the bottom of it.

Blair saw the muscles in Jim's jaw clench and felt nauseated as anger radiated through their link. Frantically, he sent soothing waves of serenity at his sentinel, practically forcing the man to calm down and think. He was only vaguely aware of Ellison standing up and easing him into the chair the sentinel had just quit. He crossed his arms on the desk and lowered his head onto them. Strong hands massaged his tense neck and shoulders and he felt himself drift off. From a distance he heard Jim's voice. "Just rest, Chief. I think I got what we need to sort this out. I'll just check-out with Simon and then we'll go home."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Simon Banks had taken some personal time despite all the things waiting for his attention. But somehow, when Jim had told him about hearing Daryl on the tape of the call to Sandburg, he had to act. This was too important to his son's character to wait. As he was waiting for his son to come out of the lecture hall, he thought back over the scene in his office. He shook his head; he was probably lucky he didn't sport a black eye. When Jim had told him about hearing Daryl on the tape, he had called him a liar. Ellison had just closed his eyes briefly. When they opened, the sentinel directed an icy stare at his Captain. His voice was cold and level as he repeated word for word what he had heard Daryl... his son... say. Simon had winced at the ugliness of the words. Then Ellison, his best detective and probably his best friend had said softly, "If you don't believe me, Captain, ask Edwards or Harvey to scan the tape." He had shaken his head. "I believe you, Jim. I don't want to but I do. This is what I've been afraid of ever since Daryl told me he was going on a GDP placement for career week."

Daryl saw his father wave at him and felt embarrassment color his cheeks. His father was there and by the scowl on his face was ready to dress him down right here. What would the others think? That he was some kid that needed his hand held?

"Dad, what are you doing here?" He hissed the words, glancing over his shoulder to see if his new friends were listening.

"Daryl, we have to talk and talk NOW."

"What? Dad, my friends... Can't it wait?"

"They can wait, son. This is more important. Blair Sandburg got an obscene telephone call at the station. Do you know anything about it?"

"No, Dad." All wounded innocence, but Daryl could tell that this time, his father wasn't buying it. Simon had to rein in his anger. "Are you sure?"

"Sure, Dad. But, anyway, I'm sure he had it coming."  
"Coming, son? And just what does that mean?"

"He's a guide and he's here taking up the place of a normal hardworking citizen. Not only that but he's a rogue guide. Everybody knows they're the worst kind. They don't want to help anyone, and when anyone tried to help them, like the GDP, they throw it back in their faces. They..."

"Daryl, who told you that?" Simon took a deep breath. His son believed the crap he was spouting.

"My friends and Officer Dexter, so it's right, Dad. They wouldn't lie."

"Daryl, as you get older..."

"I'm not a child, Dad."

"Then don't act like one. Jim heard your voice in the background, I know you were there." He hardened his tone.

"You going to believe Ellison or your son, Dad? Even if I was there what IS the PROBLEM? He's a guide, Dad, he shouldn't be here. He's supposed to be with his sentinel or in a hostel waiting for him."

"You did American History, Daryl?"

"Of course. What's that got to do with..." Simon overrode him.

 

"In the early sixties, there were schools and colleges that would not take black people. It was legal to discriminate against them just because of their skin color. A small group of very courageous individuals challenged the law in Court and won. But it took the National Guard to see them safely to the "place" they were entitled to. I remember looking at a photograph of them. You could tell that they were scared but that they were determined to make a difference; to get the education they wanted and to let no one treat them as second class. You would think that would have taught people a thing or two about fairness and decency. Yet, here we are doing the same things to people because they are empaths." "But this was different, Dad. That was..."

"How was it different, Daryl? It's illegal to discriminate against people because of color, gender, age or disability, but if they're guides then... WHAT THE HELL, WHY NOT. How does that make sense, Daryl?"

"You don't understand." Daryl was uneasily aware that his friends had stopped some distance away but well within earshot.

"I don't understand, Daryl? I have seen a man put on a leash, have a collar put on his neck that shocks him if he wanders too far, as if he were an animal. I was told it was for his own good and that, Daryl, is the largest amount of BS that I have ever heard. There is no way that I am letting you join that jackbooted group of thugs."

"Mom said..."

"Your mom and I will talk and this farce will end." Simon's voice dropped to a soft hiss meant for his son's ears alone. "And if you tell your friends what I told you about the phone call, I'll... so help me, Daryl, I'll have you charged with interference of a police investigation!"

"No, Dad." Daryl pulled away. "You've been talking to those GLA people. Ian told me about them. They're cranks. "A happy empath is a bonded guide. Only by following the rules will the guide be happy." I've got to go, Dad, my friends are waiting. Maybe Officer Dexter can talk to you."

Simon grabbed his arm as he started to leave. "Daryl, I meant what I said about the investigation."

"You think I'm going to embarrass myself in front of my friends by letting them know that Daddy is checking up on me? Get real, Dad. Now, let go."

Simon watched him leave and shook his head. He swore softly. His son wasn't ready to listen. He might have lost this argument but he had seen the expressions on Daryl's face. Some of the barbs had hit home. His son was no dummy, he had a keen brain. Simon just had to hope and believe that he would come to his senses.

His cell phone rang. "Okay, Rhonda, I'm on my way back."


	11. Chapter 11

Commander Dan Slater was about as nervous as he could ever remember being. James Ellison had dropped him off at Rainier University with Blair Sandburg that morning. The sentinel had made it painfully clear that he was entrusting his guide to the GDP Commander. There was a clear message in the icy blue eyes that it would not be to the Commander's advantage if that trust were betrayed; an unspoken threat that Slater tried to ignore. Sandburg had jumped in and calmed his sentinel down. Slater couldn't hear what the guide had said, he was just glad that it had worked. But the parting look the detective had sent his way conveyed more to the Commander than mere words could.

Sandburg had not said a word since the repaired blue and white truck pull away from the curb. He kept his head down as if to avoid looking at his "escort" and the bounce that characterized the young empath was flattened. Slater hesitated a moment before catching the guide by the arm and shaking him gently. "Sandburg, I am not going to make you kneel or embarrass you in front of your colleagues or students. Trust me, okay?"

There was a too long pause as Sandburg processed the concept of GDP and trust. Blue eyes lifted to his and seemed to judge his sincerity.

"Yes, Commander." Slater got the answer he wanted but the young empath's gaze returned to the sidewalk.

Slater changed his grip into a gentle pat. "Okay. So where is your first lecture?"

"The main lecture hall in Hargrove. Doctor Clancy is giving this dynamite presentation on tribal structures in the post-modern world. You wouldn't believe how he..."

Slater relaxed slightly as the guide's head came up and enthusiasm lit the deep blue eyes. It seemed as if a chance to share knowledge could hold the younger man's fears at bay.

As they neared the lecture hall, Slater noticed that other students were stopping to stare at them. With a sinking sensation, he realized that he didn't think it was because of Sandburg's enthusiastic impromptu lecture. There were a lot of nudges and sotto-voiced comments being made. Sandburg, who had gone silent as he picked up on the ambient, was trying to ignore the stares sent his way but the Commander could see the slight flush rising in the face of the younger man. Slater's height gave him warning an instant before Sandburg found out the reason for the attention being paid him. Over the heads of the students clustered around the entrance, the GDP officer saw a montage of photographs that featured Blair taped to the door. Slater was sickened as he recognised the illegal sexual wraps used on the guide's naked body.

Infuriated, dismayed, Slater didn't hesitate. He quickly began to rip down the offending pictures, glaring contempt at the sniggering students. The grad student was too shocked to move. He seemed to have stopped breathing. Just as Slater was wondering if he had a medical emergency on his hands, Sandburg jerked back to awareness with a shuddering breath. Slater was still worried. The young empath was as pale as a ghost, hovering on the verge of flight but sticking it out with dogged courage. As he stood uncertainly, Dr. Clancy came up, one of the pictures in his hand.

"Sandburg... Blair... I am sorry." It was said sincerely. "Someone has a really sick sense of humor." His hand dropped on the guide's shoulder in a gesture that was as supportive as it was surprising coming from the usually distant lecturer. Clancy exchanged a look with the man hovering over Sandburg. The professor read in the unknown man's eyes what he himself knew, this was far more than a sick practical joke. There was malice at work here. The stranger nodded his recognition of their shared understanding. "Blair, who's your friend?" Clancy's tone was brisk, as if finding pornographic pictures taped to his lecture hall was a common everyday occurrence.

Sandburg visibly shook himself out of his distress and made the introductions. "Doctor Clancy, this is Commander Dan Slater, GDP."

"Commander, I trust you are here to do something about this outrage? Sandburg is one of our most valued Teaching Fellows and something like this is a distraction from his work."

Sandburg blushed again, but Slater had the feeling the reason was pleased surprise at the Professor's offhand compliment. The grad student straightened up and Slater could see in his stance pride restored by the public recognition of his worth from someone whose opinion he valued.

"We, and the police, are looking into the harassment, Doctor. I can assure you that it will end," Slater's tone was grim and determined.

Clancy locked gazes with the GDP officer until he was satisfied that the man meant what he said. Then he opened the door and made an announcement to the students who had been interested observers of the conversation between their teacher and the stranger.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Go in and take a seat. We will begin as soon as I have collected these... things. I would like you all to remember that something like this says far more about the perpetrators than the victim." As the students walked past the three men standing by the door, some of them handed a picture over to Clancy. There were a few leering looks sent Blair's way but the grad student met their gazes straightforwardly. Something about him killed the smirks that had lingered on some of the faces.

Slater took the photographs from Clancy and followed Sandburg into the lecture hall. While Blair took a seat with the rest of his classmates, the Commander took a seat at the back of the room. Only when everyone's attention was on the lecturer did he examine the pictures more closely. His face hardened with controlled anger. The photographs had been taken in Sandburg's office. They had been wrong, all of them, the doctors, the sentinel, himself, when they had thankfully concluded that the young guide had not been raped in the attack. There had been no penetration but he was looking at clear evidence of a violation no less brutal for being psychological rather than physical.

Slater focused past the victim to the leash wraps that had been used. His anger built; they were the illegal carnal wraps used in underground porn films that Vice confiscated on occasion. The mere fact those particular wraps had been used showed that Blair's attackers were not students. It took an experienced person, trained in the dangers of the leash to bind someone that way without causing permanent damage, even death. Only GDP trainers taught leash wraps, and only to GDP personnel. The attack on Sandburg had to come from within the GDP ranks. That made the attack on Sandburg worse. For all the mistakes the GDP made and despite all that Ellison seemed to believe, the Corps had at one time been a service organization. People did join out of a sincere desire to help sentinels and guides; but these people... Slater shook his head. These people were living proof that the draconian image the Guide Liberation Army tried to sell to the public had some basis in fact. With a sigh, Slater pulled out his phone and contacted Banks.

As Slater followed Blair around Campus the rest of the day, the photos kept reappearing. Whoever had distributed the pictures knew Sandburg's schedule. More were found in Blair's office covering the desk and chairs. Blair had pulled out a text to write a lecture and another one fluttered out. Slater had found more tucked into books on the shelves. They mysteriously showed up in TA and faculty mailboxes. Each time he was ambushed, Slater saw the young grad student lose a bit more of his enthusiasm and energy. But with an amazing courage and dogged determination that seemed at odds with his appearance, he faced up to the situation with a dignity that couldn't be denied. Slater had tentatively suggested that Sandburg should take the rest of the day off until they could get the situation under control. Blair had looked at him with pain-filled eyes and refused.

"This is my Campus, my education, my dream, Commander. No one and nothing is going to scare me away. Only Jim could make me quit and he won't."

Brave words from a brave man, but Slater could see the toll the bigotry was taking. The Commander moved through the day vacillating between rage and admiration.

Lunch brought more humiliation. Someone had posted a sign outside the dining hall. "NO GUIDES/DOGS ALLOWED." Slater tore it down as Sandburg walked past it, head held high and his eyes focused on the menu board at the far end of the room. Slater shook his head sadly. They sickened him, the people who were pulling this crap as well as the ones who stood aside and let it happen. This place is the kid's dream? Looked more like a nightmare to him. Where the hell did we go wrong that one group of people could be treated this way and the rest of the population just turns and looks the other way?

Dan didn't have an answer for that question but he knew he wasn't going to be one of the ones who looked the other way. He studied the young man sitting across the table from him. Blair was staring at his vegetarian lasagna as if it were a fascinating work of art. Every now and then he picked it apart with a fork but never quite got any food into his mouth. His pale, determined face made up Slater's mind.

"Excuse me a minute, Blair." The curly head nodded. None of the guide's usual curiosity about anything and everything was evident on his expressive face.

Dan moved out of earshot and pulled out his cell phone.

"Lieutenant Harris, please."

"Lieutenant Harris speaking."

"Commander Slater here, Lieutenant. I'm on Campus with Guide Sandburg today and someone had been plastering the buildings and grounds with--" Slater was pleased with the anger he heard in Harris' voice as he interrupted the Commander with a pungent description of the probable ancestry of the plasterers. -- "I take it you've seen them. I want them collected and destroyed. Doctor Claydove will approve any overtime needed to clear them out. I will not see a guide disgraced this way. It reflects badly on the GDP." He closed the phone, studied the bowed head of the young guide at the distant table and whispered feelingly, "and I will be damned if I let them do this to you."

Business done, Slater sat back down at the table and asked, "Are you planning to eat that or write a paper on it?" Blair didn't even smile at his attempted witticism and that was a very bad sign. He'd seen this young man crack a joke in the worst situations; he used humor as a defense and to defuse tense moments. Blair's answer was to just push the plate away, leaving the food untasted. Slater pushed it back.

"I promised Jim you would eat, so eat you will."

"Not really hungry, Commander."

"Eat, because I am not explaining to your sentinel why you flaked away while I was with you." He added softly, "we will find whoever is doing this to you. They will be punished, Blair." Slater looked right at Blair Sandburg, wanting him to know that promise was more than just talk. The guide nodded. There was something in the deep blue eyes that hadn't been there before and the commander felt warmed as he recognized what that something was... trust.

The moment passed quickly as a woman's voice called over the room's hubbub.

"Rosemary, over here."

Blair turned as he heard that name and blushed scarlet. The girl he was dating had just come into the dining hall. Blair felt nausea claw at the pit of his stomach and was glad he had not eaten. Rosemary was a TA. She would have received one of the photographs. She would have seen him LIKE THAT, open and.... His mind would not finish the thought. His whole body seemed to freeze along with his mind. Dan Slater brought him back to the present with a chiding comment.

"Come on, Sandburg. Do you want Ellison to kill me? Think of the trouble, think of the paperwork, that would cause."

For the first time that day, Slater heard something approaching real anger directed at him by the guide.

"Leave it, Commander. Eating anything right now is not in the cards."

Slater followed Blair's gaze over to a table where a young woman was just sitting down. He watched as she was handed an all too familiar piece of cardboard and felt the young man across the table tense. The Commander pushed the plate back.

Sandburg couldn't look away as he saw Rosemary's friends lean toward her and laugh as they pointed over at him. Cold settled into his bones and he pushed the plate away yet again. I might never eat again. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rosemary stand and stare in his direction. Suddenly, his plate was of great interest to him even if the food wasn't. He missed the scathing comment Rosemary directed at her friends. Missed seeing her pick up her tray and walk over to his table. He did hear her soft question.

"Mind if I sit down, Blair? If you're busy with this gentleman, I can come back later."

Blair's head came up and he seemed to gather himself. Rosemary could have cried at the pain that darkened Blair's beautiful eyes as he said calmly, almost in a whisper of breath. "Are you sure you want to be seen with a guide?"

Slater looked on approvingly as she answered, "As long as it's you." She leaned down and captured his mouth in a kiss that said more than any words before sliding into the seat next to him. Her hand closed over his, comforting, supportive. Only then did she look at Dan Slater, taking in his uniform.

"You're one of THEM." The angry aggression in her voice was formidable.

"A good one of THEM, Rosemary." Blair defended Slater.

She stared challengingly at Slater. He met her gaze straight on and she relaxed as if he had passed some kind of test. Slater was subjected to yet another careful scrutiny when a young man wearing a soccer jersey came up.

Alan Fraser, Captain of the soccer team and, just recently, aspiring anthropologist stopped at the table. He had been one of the first to openly champion his teacher and his anger at what was going on was plain to see. He cast a suspicious eye at Slater as he handed Sandburg a brown envelope enclosed in a plastic ziplock bag.

"We collected all these, Prof. I think we got them all." Alan shifted nervously. "We were going to just destroy them but we thought that maybe that sentinel of yours might be able to spot something on them."

"Thanks, Alan." Blair hesitated, then said softly, "I am so sorry about Jerry, Alan. How is the team handling it?"

"We're doing okay, Prof. We'll miss him... he really enjoyed your class, you know. That 92 he got on that last quiz? It was the first time he ever got that high a grade at Rainier. He said you were the only teacher he'd ever had who didn't make him feel stupid."

"He wasn't stupid, Alan. He just had his own way of seeing things... And he knew he had a good friend in you. That's what you have to remember." Blair coughed as the emotional ambient darkened with grief. Unthinkingly, he sent out soothing waves of sympathy and support. It did not go unnoticed by Commander Slater, nor did the peace that settled over Blair's student.

"If I can help you, the team, in any way, Alan..." Sandburg made the kind of offer Slater was beginning to expect of Cascade's Guide Prime.

"You got it, Professor. And the same goes for you from us. We'll keep our eyes peeled and see if we can nail these creeps."

Alan awkwardly patted Blair's shoulder. He cast another searching look at the man sitting with Sandburg. Only when he was sure that man was no threat to his favorite teacher, did he walk out of the cafeteria.

Slater took the envelope Blair extended to him and excused himself. Rosemary immediately slid an arm around the empath as soon as soon as he left. Slater stopped at a table on the far side of the hall and looked back. He saw the young woman say something that actually won a smile from the teaching fellow. First Rosemary and then this Alan kid. It was almost enough to restore his faith in humanity. It was good to see that the kid had real friends.

Dan checked through the photographs. It was more of the same, disturbing images that he suspected he would be seeing in his nightmares until they caught the bastards responsible. He found himself amazingly grateful that the photos made it obvious that Sandburg had been unconscious for the photo shoot. Bad enough that Blair had to see what had been done to him, at least he hadn't experienced it first hand. Slater was pushing them into an envelope when he stopped dead and looked at them again. One photo had a small smudge in one corner. Right in the place that an identification number might show up. If it was a number, and they could make it out... Excitement rose in the commander and he reached for his cell phone.

"Captain Banks, please... Simon? Get someone down to Rainier to pick up a photograph one of the kids on the soccer team just handed Sandburg. There's what might just be an identifying number on the print. Someone slipped up big time, Simon. We might just be able to nail these bastards." Slater's smile as he ended the call would not have been out of place on Ellison at his most feral.

As the day progressed, Slater's admiration for the guide increased as the kid carried on with his life despite the charged atmosphere that surrounded him. Slater was ready to head home. As tired as I am, the kid must need some real down time with his sentinel. One last stop at Sandburg's office to meet with a student and then Ellison will arrive and end one of the most trying days of my life.

The commander looked ahead to where Sandburg was walking with a young woman who towered over him. Slater had dropped back to give them some privacy when he'd recognized the young woman he had met at Sandburg's office the night of the attack. Blair was talking to her, expressive hands outlining some argument he was making as if the day that had Slater ready to call it quits had never happened. That kid is tougher than he looks!

As a GDP guard stepped out in front of the couple, Slater hurried his steps.

"On your knees, Guide, and show your respect." The words were growled loudly enough to attract attention. As students turned to check out the disturbance, Sandburg stopped dead in his tracks, his face paling. His hands clenched into fists by his sides.

"You heard me, Guide, on your knees and show your respect to your betters." The guard held a leash in his hand.

"My betters?" Sandburg questioned softly, but clearly. "Who would that be? You? I don't think so."

There was something almost majestic about the young guide.

Slater cringed. Dammit, kid, now is not the time to turn loose the Dark Guide. That's GDP... or is he? Something about the confusion that blossomed on the guard's face at Sandburg's retort didn't read right. But even if he was GDP he had no right to confront Sandburg on Campus as he had done. Slater moved forward to intervene.

Confusion dissolved into anger and the GDP Guard snarled, "You want the leash, Guide? You like it? On your knees now or..."

Before the threat was completed, Slater snapped, "You stay put, Guide Sandburg. He's out of order."

The guard turned, blustering. "Who do you think you are? This is GDP business, butt out."

"I know I am Commander Slater, GDP." Dan hauled his ID out. "Who are you? Name and station, mister."

The expression that crossed the guard's face would have been funny if the situation itself wasn't so serious. The man panicked. Catching hold of a passing student, he pushed her into Slater and took off down the hall. The Dark Guide went after him. Fueled by anger, Sandburg was fast and focused and he closed the distance quickly. The GDP guard hesitated at a crossing of hallways, unsure of the way out. That was all the chance the Dark Guide needed. He threw himself forward, catching the larger man around the waist, his weight bringing the guard down. They landed heavily. The guard struggled against his captor, shouting epithets and threats, projecting anger and fear at the empath. For an instant Blair faltered, then the training Jim had given him and Dark Guide instincts cut in and he held on to his prey.

As Slater arrived on the scene, the Dark Guide suddenly retreated as Blair thought of the possible ramifications of his actions. A guide attacking someone... that's how it would look. His momentary distraction cost him and he took a heavy blow. The fist had been aimed at his head but a quick twist deflected it to his shoulder. But it was enough to numb his arm, making him lose his grip. The guard tried to throw him off. Unbalanced, he slammed into the wall but managed to hang onto the man until Carol landed heavily on the guard too. Her fist connected with the GDPer's chin. He went limp.

Carol was breathing hard as she put a hand down to help Blair up. She saw the look of shocked respect the younger man shot at her. "I always said that weight training would pay off eventually." Her grin was infectious.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The GDP guard sat in the interrogation room at the police station, a picture of smug calmness that had the opposite effect on one raging sentinel. Brown kept a wary eye on Ellison as he reported. "Name's McVee. Small time grifter, couple of priors but he got away with fines and community service. Does some casual labor to pay the bills, garden clean-up, garbage hauling, that kind of thing. Not the brightest of bulbs."

Ellison said grimly, "Someone hired him to kidnap my guide. I want them... and if I have to go through McVee to get to them, I will."

Simon determination to keep the sentinel's instincts under control was adamant. "Listen up, Detective Ellison. There is no way I am letting you in on the interview, not in the state you're in at the moment. I'll handle the questioning with Dan Slater."

The expected mutinous expression crossed the sentinel's face and then, to Simon's amazement, the look changed to one of wicked satisfaction. Realizing that Jim was looking through the one-way glass at the interview room, Simon turned around ... and swore. Sentinel Prime Edwards had entered the room while he was busy with Ellison. Detective Edwards sat on the other side of the table from the fake GDP guard. He didn't say anything. Just looked at McVee as he catalogued the man's vital signs. There was a twitch to Edward's lips that blossomed into a sardonic grin as he noticed the increase in the heartbeat and respiration and watched a tinge of uncertainty grow on the man's face. The sentinel prime still had not said a word when Banks and Slater entered the small room.

Slater noticed the difference in the man immediately. The silent, level glare of the sentinel, Edwards' air of lethal power as he contemplated the idiot daring to interfere in the Sentinel world, had shaken the man's certainty. Banks ignored Edwards' presence. Part of being a Captain included knowing when to not give an order that wouldn't be obeyed. He knew the sentinel prime wouldn't leave. Attempted kidnapping of the Guide Prime was a *sentinel thing* and Edwards was looking after business for his Senior Sentinel Prime. Simon cleared his throat and addressed the prisoner. "You waived a lawyer, Mr McVee. Mind telling me why?"

"Hey, it was a joke, that's all. Nothing more than that. Lighten up." McVee spoke to Simon but his attention was fixed on Edward's scowl.

Slater cut him off. "Impersonating a GDP guard is a criminal offense."

"Look, I told you. It was a joke. I got paid $60 and all I had to do was enter Hargrove Hall and wait for the guide to come in, order him on his knees, leash him and then lead him out to a van. They said that he had been sniffing around an underage girl. They were just going to warn him off that's all. Remind him of his place.

Simon's disgust was plain. "You think that kidnapping and indecent assault is a joke? Maybe you think that two to five years in the pen is funny too? Because that's the minimum you're looking at if this goes before a judge."

McVee looked puzzled. "For God's sake. It's not as if we're talking about a person here. He's just a guide sniffing around where he shouldn't. I thought they were being pretty easy on the guy, myself. Come off it."

Edwards snarled, low and deep-throated.

McVee tensed at the sound. His cockiness was slowly being replaced by something else... fear of the sentinel now standing in front of him.

"Where did you meet them?" Edwards' growled harshly. His eyes pinned the prisoner, who swallowed dryly before answering.

"I was in a bar. This guy came up and asked me if I wanted to earn some easy money. He paid me thirty bucks up front and promised the rest when the job was finished. I got the uniform from him." He volunteered the last information, hoping it would prove to the sentinel that he was co-operating.

"Which bar?"

"The Good Times, on Tarrant and Lexcon."

"You know this man's name, Mr. McVee?" Slater asked, taking over the questioning as the Sentinel Prime leaned back against the wall.

"Sure, John Smith." McVee saw their disbelief and raised his hands. "Hey, it wasn't like I asked for references or anything."

Simon shook his head. "I'm getting the sketch artist in here and you're going to work with him to get a likeness of this John Smith. If you don't come up with something we can use, I'll have the book thrown at you. You understand me?"

McVee nodded. He might not be the most intelligent person in the world but even he could see that the "joke" was anything but to these men. He was in a world of trouble and he wanted out.

Jim was waiting for Edwards outside Interrogation. As the junior sentinel collected his guide, Ellison spoke, "Thanks for your help."

"Any time, Jim. The guy was telling the truth. He's paid muscle, that's all."

Simon, following Edwards out, ignored the two sentinels. His attention was on Carolyn Plummer who was walking as if she had something important to impart. She didn't even bother with greetings as she reached him. "I might have something, Simon." Ellison and Edwards came to attention, joining the captain immediately.

"Okay, lady and gentlemen, lets take this into my office and out of the corridor."

Going through the bullpen, Jim snagged Blair in passing and sat next to him on Simon's sofa. When they were all seated Banks said, "You've got the floor, Lieutenant."

Carolyn passed around a photograph in a protective sleeve of plastic. "This is a copy of one of the photos that the soccer players collected and gave to Sandburg. I ran the original through the computer to enhance the image quality to see if I could make out that "smudge" of the commander's." She smiled at Slater. "Well, it worked. A digital camera was used to take the photograph, one of the newer ones that automatically attaches an identifying code to each shot unless the feature is manually turned off. Whoever took the photos forgot to do that for this one shot and then didn't catch the error." She paused for reactions.

Ellison didn't give her long to build the suspense. "And?" "I traced the code back to the Rainier University GDP office. The camera, at least, is from that office. Whether that proves that someone there is behind this, I'll leave to you gentlemen to figure out."

Slater nodded. "Very rarely, the cameras might be loaned out to one of the placement students for a project. I'll go down and have a look at the equipment logs and see if that turns up anything. We will get them."

Jim's attention was drawn to his guide. While the progress being made produced an air of satisfaction among the rest of the people in the office, it was not shared by his young guide. Blair was looking at him with such despair that it made Jim want to hit something, preferably the people behind the attacks. For Blair, the situation had just gone from bad to worse. This wasn't just student harassment. It was something much more sinister. One or more people in an official position of trust, who knew how the system worked and how to conceal themselves, had targeted the kid. If he or she or they hadn't made that one mistake...

Jim threw an arm around his guide's shoulder and shifted him closer to his side. He felt the kid connect to him, felt his need for added support. What could the kid have done to deserve this kind of crap? Absolutely nothing.

Carolyn tried to not feel jealous as Jim pulled his guide tight against him. But it wasn't easy. Then she took a closer look at the young man and really saw the despair and the hopelessness in his eyes. She gently patted his arm and said, "It will all work out, Blair."

"Thanks, Lieutenant Plummer." As his guide spoke, Ellison gifted her with a luminous smile that made her jealousy seem petty.

Simon Banks mulled over the reports and then ordered, "All right, people. Let's get back to work and nail these bastards." Under his breath, for sentinel ears only, he added, "Jim, stay behind a minute. Just you."

As everyone filed out of the office, Jim stopped at the door. "Listen, Chief, I need to see Simon about something. I left my interview notes from the hit-and-run on my desk. Could you start putting them into a report?"

"Sure, Jim." Blair's eyes refused to meet Jim's and he pulled out of the link. His attempt to keep Jim from feeling his distress failed.

"Blair, just remember that it was not your fault that someone killed Jerry. Right?" Ellison waited until his guide had nodded and gone back to their desk before turning back to Banks.

Simon opened the conversation with a question that had been bothering him. "Why the hell would anyone in the GDP risk their career to do something like this to Sandburg? Okay, the kid can be a major pain but I just don't buy this as something an official would do. If they wanted to get the kid there's plenty of legal ways to do it."

"Thanks, Simon, that's just what I want to hear." Jim's voice dripped with sarcasm.

Simon shook his head. "How is the kid handling this mess?"

Jim turned to look towards his desk and study his guide. "He's not showing it but Blair is scared, Simon. This is bringing a lot of the crap he's had thrown at him back at force 10. It's hard, but he's hanging in there."

A knock on the door interrupted their discussion and the sketch artist came in. "Here's the composite I got from McVee."

Banks nodded approvingly at the fast work. "Have any trouble with him?"

The artist grinned. "Well, at first he was having a little trouble remembering what the guy looked like. He had another chat with Sentinel Edwards and it was funny how his memory improved." He dropped the picture onto the desk and left.

"Edwards' got great people skills." Jim's expression was the height of innocence.

"Sure he has, Jim. And lions have dainty little claws too. Get Blair back in here. Let's see if he recognizes this character."

Banks waited patiently while Jim escorted his guide back into the office. Simon raised the pot of chocolate-flavored coffee, an eyebrow raised in query. When Sandburg nodded, he poured him a cup.

Cradling the cup in his hands, Blair looked from Simon to Jim. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"Sandburg?" Simon growled the question.

"Well, first I'm out. Then Jim escorts me back in and then you, Captain, offer me coffee but not Jim. Something's up."

"Yeah, something's up, kid. We've got a forensics drawing here we want you to look at. See if you recognize him." Simon flicked the cover open on a file and passed it across the small table to Blair. He heard a gasp and Blair's cup slid from suddenly numb fingers. Jim pulled the kid away from the hot coffee and made sure he wasn't burned. The whole time, Sandburg was mumbling.

"Man, oh, man. Why didn't I recognise him before? Man, oh, man. He was right there at the station and I didn't even recognize him."

"You know this joker, Chief?"

"When I first went back to Rainier... remember when you got called out when I had a ... well, when I froze up?" At Jim's nod he continued. "There were two GDPers there, an officer and a guard. This guy was the officer."

"You sure of this, Chief?"

"Positive. He was very aggressive, didn't like me being there at all. I should have remembered earlier but it's a bit of a blur. All I saw was the uniform. He had me down on my knees... I didn't really see his face that much, but..." He took a deep breath. "Yes, that's him, Jim."

Jim's hand latched onto his guide's shoulder, his touch giving support. "Simon, Woodward and that TA... Carol somebody... saw this jerk."

He picked up the phone. "Slater, it's Ellison. We have an ID on the suspect. You need to come back up here."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Slater took a seat opposite the sentinel and guide team. "I ran the file on him. His name is Jack Wilde. He's been in the GDP for 20 years, a career officer. His last posting was eight years at the Correction Facility in Seattle."

"So, what's his beef with me? I never met the guy before that day." Sandburg's voice was plaintive, as if he still thought that he must have somehow brought this on himself.

"He was moved to the Rainier University office after he was censured for undue roughness with guide trainees. He seemed to have settled in and now works as a day supervisor. He's married with three children. His evaluations describe him as a hard worker but sometimes overly fixated on discipline. I read the report on the incident that you described at Rainier. He overstepped his authority with Blair and there was a counter report on the incident by Lieutenant Harris."

"But why did he go after Blair in the first place? He never even knew the guy." Ellison was obviously making an effort to keep his temper under control.

"That's not the point is it, Commander? He didn't have to know me, Jim. It's because I'm a guide, isn't it?"

Slater nodded his head. "Because you're a guide AND you're at Rainier University. Guides aren't supposed to be capable of that level of academic achievement. They're too emotional, too... flighty... without the grounding of a sentinel. You're proving them wrong, kid. There's a group inside the GDP that believes that guides should have the minimum education necessary to facilitate their work with their sentinels."

"Kept barefoot and pregnant."

"Sandburg?" Simon was looking at Blair in the way that showed he was worried about the kid. That sarcastic remark had come out of left field.

"Sorry, it's what they used to say about women before they got the vote. Keep them barefoot and pregnant and they won't cause a problem or want more out of life than kitchen and kids." Blair shook himself as if he was coming back from some other place. "Sorry."

He felt Simon's hand drop on his shoulder and give a quick squeeze. The captain pulled his hand away but not before Blair saw felt his compassion, understanding and support.

Simon coughed, hiding his emotions behind a covering hand. "Enough social history. What else do we know? Slater?" He growled the words gruffly.

"I think we're looking at more than one person. The photos were too widespread too fast for one person acting alone. I do think that Wilde is probably responsible for how this particular attack came down. I said that Harris had filed a counter report. That's a black mark on his record if he doesn't successfully challenge it. It could even hold up his next step-increase in salary."

"So, he was looking to get really personal..." Ellison's growl faded as Blair reached for his arm. Slater nodded agreement before going on.

"Wilde is known to have several drinking buddies and we haven't been able to rule them out as participants yet. But they are being investigated quietly by people I trust. We do know that the attack on Blair in his office would have needed more than one person. Some of those wraps can't be done by..." It was Slater's turn to leave a sentence unfinished as Blair shuddered visibly.

"We can get him for this, right?" Blair asked quietly, breaking the awkward silence.

"I'm trying to get solid evidence tying him into the camera. Unfortunately, the way this has come down means that, at the moment, we're looking at an internal matter here. Misuse of GDP property, improper disciplining of a guide..." Slater read the disbelief on Banks' and Ellison's faces. "They are not going to want to publicize this matter. You know that. Jim could bring a complaint against them for assaulting his guide but that's as far as it would go if this remains strictly a GDP issue."

Simon snapped. "Those bastards attack one of my men and all they get is a rap on the wrist? I want more than that, Dan. Talk to me."

Jim shook his head in confusion. "Wait a minute. Let's get this straight. I think we have to work out exactly what is going on here. Blair has been having trouble since day one. Some of the students and faculty don't like the fact he's there." He dropped a hand on his guide's shoulder to reassure him and felt the tug on the back of his mind as Blair connected to him for support. "Fortunately, many of the students and faculty do want him there." He smiled at the Teaching Fellow. "There's been harassing phone calls, a few poison pen letters and the much more serious physical assaults - when the coffee water was drugged and this last attack."

"Right." Blair agreed. "There's two groups pulling this shit, Jim. That's what it feels like."  
Jim grinned. "Got it in one, Chief. Sure you don't want to skip the anthropology gig and become a detective? Blair grinned back. "Hey, Jim, anthropology is detective work. Just not limited to bad guys and crime."

Banks cleared his throat and Ellison went on. "Number one, Blair is harassed in his office by this guy Wilde. We thought at the time that it was a "run-of-the-mill Lieutenant Harris checking up on Blair" kind of thing that got out of hand. Now we know that that Harris never authorized the "checking up." We suspect that Wilde is behind the pictures and the assault. On the other hand, we have the office and car vandalism, the notice in the dining hall and the phone calls. Now they scream student to me. Nothing physical, just insulting and inconvenient. And, in a class by itself, the hit-and-run"

Simon put in. "We think that Blair was the intended victim. These people, whoever the are, try to unnerve him. He's tougher than they thought and stays at Rainier. So they escalate their harassment and physically attack and humiliate him. He's still there. So, murder? If they are fanatical enough it makes sense. But that stunt with McVee? What was the idea behind that?" There was silence as the police captain and detective and the GDP commander considered that. Sandburg looked as if his mind was miles away.

"Damn, of course," Simon cursed. "What better way to hide than in plain sight? Blair is abducted by a GDP officer in broad daylight, who is the last person you're going to suspect? Someone in the GDP. Then McVee is found later, dead. He's a small time loser. If they killed once, they wouldn't hesitate to kill a low life like him. We might even believe that someone was starting up a business in black market empaths again."

Slater was looking at Blair in a calculating manner. "We, I mean you, the Cascade PD, need to catch them in the act and then they can't make it internal. We need bait."

Jim snapped, "No."

"Yes," the Dark Guide growled, "I'll do it."

"No, you won't," Jim responded.

Slater and Banks were interested observers of the staring contest between sentinel and guide. Banks wished he could have a minute's privacy with Slater to make a little wager. He suspected that Sandburg would win, Jim was too good a cop not to allow what was needed to close the case... and Simon had seen first-hand just how stubborn the young guide could be. Slater only saw a sentinel and a guide, with the power belonging to the sentinel. Banks saw Ellison and Sandburg. "YES. Jim, it needs to be done," Blair insisted.

The sentinel met the eyes of his Dark Guide, reading his need to do this. He exhaled slowly. "All right, but we keep you under surveillance, Chief, and if something doesn't feel right you get the hell out of there."

"In a heartbeat, man, I am so not into pain."

Simon didn't have to be a mind reader to know who "we" were.

"So how do we make them try for Blair on our terms?" Banks asked the obvious question. "Slater, you know the inner workings of the GDP. What's our best bet?"

"Simple. Remember I told you that Harris had filed a counter report? I'll arrange to have an administrative notice sent to Wilde that he is being denied his scheduled step-increase in salary because of that report. I'll have it noted that Ellison filed a complaint based on his guide's testimony. Jim and Blair would be called as witnesses if he asks for a hearing."

"No guide, no testimony... Wilde challenges the complaint, no witness, no loss of step-increase." Banks summed it up. "I like it."

"I don't." That was the growl of the Dark Sentinel. It was Detective Ellison who added, "But it does seem the best way to bring matters to a head. Just make sure that it's not Sandburg's head that rolls."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The next few days passed in a blur for Blair. On Friday, Wilde opened the administrative notice and asked for a hearing and the rest of the day off. The hearing was scheduled for Tuesday to accommodate Sentinel Ellison's schedule and Wilde was seen hanging around Hargrove Hall Friday afternoon. Blair didn't know how he felt about that but Ellison did. The sentinel had kept him under what amounted to house arrest the whole weekend. At least I got a lot of work done. I'm all caught up and ready for the dig.

Monday found him back at the University. Four hours into the day and Blair was exhausted while Jim was ready to come unglued. And Commander Slater was wondering just why he had thought joining the GDP had been a smart career choice.

Slater was back shadowing Sandburg. From the moment he followed the old Corvair to the university, the day was every bit as stressful as any that the Commander could remember living through. The GDP officer was keeping in touch with Jim via a small headset. As the day wore on, the sentinel's obvious fear and anger were keeping Slater even more on edge than even the circumstances dictated. In the middle of a presentation to his students, Blair had pulled down a roll-up map only to find an enlarged picture of himself plastered in its place. Sentinel hearing had heard the gasp and the increased heart rate of his guide over the tiny radio. Slater had described to him what happened next.

Hands trembling, Blair pulled the picture down and threw it into the wastebasket. He expected the students to react, to snicker or outright laugh, but all he heard was silence. When he raised his head, a hand had gone up. Bracing himself, Blair called on the student. The question was about the lecture and he kick-started again, making a good recovery. Probably better than his fulminating sentinel, staked out in the parking lot at Hargrove Hall, Blair thought. The PD was counting on an attempt being made in the parking lot that night.

Slater stayed with him until office hours were over and then ostentatiously took his leave of Blair on the steps to Hargrove Hall. As usual when his sentinel didn't need him, Blair worked late into the evening. His barriers were beginning to fry but he couldn't do anything about it. Jim had to stay out of sight and Blair couldn't leave until the parking lot was deserted enough to encourage the suspect to snap the trap. It was late evening when he got the call he had been waiting for. Ellison had spotted Wilde in a dark sedan parked off to the side of the building. When he ran the plates, it turned out that the car belonged to a neighbor of Wilde's who was off on a month long vacation.

Blair shoved books and papers in his backpack but left his laptop on his desk. If something did happen, he wasn't ready to risk his computer. Even the most generous and understanding sentinel couldn't be expected to shell out for two of them. Blair was nervous when he left the building and started across the parking lot. His empathic faculty was surging out of control and he was picking up all kinds of emotions from all over the campus. He was almost at his car and was reaching for his keys when an engine burst into life. He was hit by a wave of hatred and anger that froze him in his tracks for one vital moment. When he shook himself out of it, he only had a split second to throw himself out of the way of the oncoming car. Even so, it clipped him and he rolled into the side of the Corvair. Dazed, hovering on the verge of unconsciousness, he tried to move. The attack car stopped and then was thrown into reverse. Blair just managed to get clear of it. Then the door opened and the driver got out. He looked around him and then pulled out a night-stick, it swung up and headed back down toward the young guide's feebly moving head.

"POLICE, FREEZE."

Wilde cursed. Ellison had him but he could still get the little freak... and maybe buy himself a chance to escape while the sentinel helped his guide.

The stick came down. A gun discharged and the attacker was thrown backward and slid down the side of Blair's car. Blair looked toward the sound of the gunshot. Even with his vision blurred, he knew it was his sentinel standing there. The tall form was perfectly balanced; gun at the ready as he moved forward, prepared to stop Wilde if he made so much as a move towards his guide. Blair faded out for a moment. The next thing he was aware of was Jim leaning over him, his voice edged with concern, "Lay still, buddy. It's all over, Blair. Everything will be all right." Blair looked beyond his sentinel and wondered where all the people and cop cars had come from. The spinning lights hurt his head. He felt Jim's hands moving over him and moaned as gentle hands found a sore spot. Then everything blurred again. From a distance he heard Jim yell, "Call 911, H. Officer down."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Jim sat holding his guide's hand, gently rubbing the too cool flesh with his thumb, making a physical connection and mentally leaning against the link. The kid's barriers were completely down and the doctor was reluctant to give him a damper drug because of the concussion he had sustained. Jim hoped he was giving the kid a sense of security; that touch and openness on the link would let him feel his sentinel's protection and support as soon as he woke up. An hour later, his vigil was rewarded as he registered the return to consciousness of his guide.

" 'i... mm?" It was more moan than word. But Ellison interpreted it easily.

"Yeah, Chief, it's Jim. You're safe now, kid, we got him."

"Wha'...?" Shaky fingers went toward a curl-covered brow. A big, warm hand caught and held them away from the ache in his head.

"You banged your head a little, Blair. But you're going to be all right. Doc wants to keep you here for a few hours and then we can go home. Okay, kid?"

" 'kay, 'imm."

Ellison smiled as Blair pulled the hand holding his close to him and fell back asleep. The guide needed to know that his sentinel would protect him and the grad student needed to know his friend was there. It felt so right, warming Blair's cold hand in his warm one that Jim didn't care what it looked like, the damage it might do to his stoic image. He just didn't care.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

With everything that had happened, Blair still had to face his class. It was either face them or forget about being a TA and from there it would be a short jump to being forced from the University. Jim had hovered over him for three days, not letting him step foot from the Loft until the doctor cleared him for work. Rumors were rife on Campus. Blair's attempted murder and the murder of Jerry Carver had been tied together by gossip and the bigots were scurrying for cover. And some had discovered in themselves a sense of shame for what they had been party to. Harry Carter was one of them and he had made a shamefaced call at the Loft. He had been part of Newman's crew but after hearing what had happened to Blair, what they had done seemed petty and had lost whatever kick he had been getting out of it. His apologies had been heartfelt and the kid had transferred to another course, no longer interested in a career with the GDP or his former friends.

Jim still worried about the grad student's return to Rainier but Blair had ruled out flight. He belonged at the university and hell would freeze over before he voluntarily left. And if they tried to force him out, he would fight with everything he had.

Daryl walked into the lecture hall. His Dad had been acting funny the past couple of days. They'd had some "father-son" talks about the civil rights struggle that previous generations of Bankses had fought in. His Dad kept looking at him and asking him if there was anything he wanted to discuss. He liked the attention and the stories about his great-grandfather were cool but he didn't understand what his father wanted from him. It had left father and son frustrated. His problem with his father faded into the background as he saw Robin Newman wave at him and point to a seat next to her. The pretty, young woman and her friends had been really nice to him. They treated him as if he wasn't just a high school kid. Daryl hesitated and then went up to Sandburg at the front of the room. Checking to see that Robin was watching, he said loudly, "Guide Sandburg, I'm on my work placement with the GDP. Officer Dexter said it was all right for me to sit in on your lecture." Daryl made it a challenge, he heard his *friends* laugh as they heard the *guide* part.

Blair held his gaze levelly. "I was expecting you, Mr. Banks, take a seat. And in this classroom and on this Campus, you will address me as MR. Sandburg." Blair almost smiled at the look of disbelief on the kid's face.

"But you're a..."

"I am nobody's property, Mr. Banks." His voice was edged with the snarl of the Dark Guide. "Now take your seat."

Daryl tried to bluff it out but something in Sandburg's eyes made him look down and take a seat.

Blair stood in front of his students and his gaze swept over them. His eyes locked on the students in first two rows of the tiered seating. He saw the smug smiles and the leashes wrapped around their waists and shook his head.

"You have something to say, Mr. Tipp, Miss Newman?"

"No, *Guide* Sandburg." There was a laugh from the small crowd around them.

"I see. So you found out that I was a guide, SO WHAT? I have a BA and MA.I am a grad student working on my PhD, and I'm a Teaching Fellow. What exactly do you object to, Mr. Tipp? The fact that I have another day job?" Blair's lips twisted into a bitter smile but his eyes were ice cold. Blair paused but the students were silent.

"I see. Don't have an answer to the question. Now then, I understand that you six all want to be members of the GDP. You apparently believe that gives you the right to do what you please to that group of people known as Guides. Well, ladies and gentlemen, IT DOES NOT. With very few exceptions, the GDP are a small-minded group of bigots and you should have more brains than to want to join them. I suspect that, like many of those who join that organization, you see the power in the uniform and think that wearing one will make you better than us. It doesn't work that way. In fact, if you're in it for the power trip, it will make you less than us."

"You better not say that, Guide." Ian Tipp's face was red, his voice loud after the soft, cutting tones that had held his classmates speechless. "You wait until the GDP..."

"THE GDP DO WHAT? PUT ME IN THE CORRECTIONS FACILITY? DONE THAT, MR.TIPP, BEEN THERE AND BOUGHT THE T-SHIRT." The sarcasm dripped from each word. Blair lowered his voice again and walked over to the seats. His tone was conversational and all the students, even those on the top tier, leaned forward so as not to miss a word.

"Your precious GDP put me through the wringer because I wanted a life of scholarship instead of a life of sentinel servitude. When I refused their "invitation" to join their happy little band, they branded me a "rogue empath." Do you know what that entails, Mr. Tipp? Because I think you should find out before you put on the uniform, don't you?"

"They... they train you again." Robin Newman answered, with a touch of defiance tinged with uncertainty. She held up a copy of Sentinel 101.

Blair's laugh was chilling.

"They train you again. Sounds pretty harmless, doesn't it? Educational even. They GAVE me to a guard named Wilson. He tortured me, physically and mentally. I was starved and drugged until I wasn't sure what year it was, much less what month or day. He called in his friends to help him with my "retraining." THEY PUT ME THROUGH SIX WEEKS OF HELL TO GET ME ACCEPT MY "PLACE" IN SOCIETY." Blair stopped and took a breath. He stepped closer, his deep blue eyes holding remembered pain. His voice was conversational again. "That, Miss Newman, was my retraining. I was brought bleeding and filthy and starving to the PD to bond with a sentinel who didn't even want a guide." Blair plucked the textbook from Newman's nerveless hands.

Blair went back to the lectern and set down the textbook and opened his lecture notes. The class heaved a sigh of relief, hoping that the emotional moment was over. Then Blair picked up the Sentinel text and slammed it back onto the lectern making the students jump in their seats.

"You're intelligent people, intelligent enough to get into Rainier, yet you lap up their lies as if they were gospel truth. Do you want to know what happens when an empath bonds and becomes a guide? What really happens, NOT THIS FANTASY THEY SELL TO PUT A GOOD FACE ON SLAVERY?" He threw the copy of Sentinel 101 down on the desk in front of Tripp. His voice lowered and it seemed to the silent students as if their teacher went to someplace in his mind where he relived what he shared with them.

"It's like having your mind ripped open. Every neuro-pathway is blown apart; any ability to create and hold barriers for long enough to live a normal life is lost forever. If you're incredibly lucky, you might be able to keep them up for hours at a time but, without support from the sentinel, they erode away...THEY ALWAYS ERODE AWAY, NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO. And then the emotions come crashing in, from everyone and everywhere. There's no escape, no place to hide. The emotions eat away at you, Mr. Tipp, Miss Newman, like acid and it's either connect with your sentinel or go insane." Blair's voice rose again and the students winced. THAT, MISS NEWMAN, IS THE SENTENCE THAT I AND PEOPLE LIKE ME SERVE. A rather harsh penalty for the crime of being born, don't you think?"  
Blair closed the distance between them. "I see you all have a new fashion statement." Blair heard a laugh from the vicinity of the soccer team. He took a moment to grin at them before raising his voice in a scathing question. "THE LEASHES. WERE THEY A LITTLE SURPRISE FOR ME TO GET ME TO FALL DOWN ON MY KNEES TO YOU? THEY TELL YOU THAT I NEED IT BECAUSE I AM A ROGUE GUIDE?" Blair backed away from the seating. Blue eyes scanned the students, seeing shock, surprise, horror, sympathy and what might even be respect in their faces. His voice was gentle as he asked. "Have any of you ever seen one of these things used in a punishment wrap on a man? Besides in the pictures someone plastered all over Campus? I mean on a living, breathing up-close and personal human being?"

Tipp's face was scarlet with rage. Robin Newman was hunched over in her seat, avoiding eye contact with everyone. And Daryl Banks' eyes, and mouth, were so wide it was almost funny.

"In the correction facility they tighten them so that you can't walk or straighten up. If they are really pissed at you, they use a caustic leash that burns your skin every time you move." Tipp's mouth was moving but no sound was coming out. Finally he managed to choke out, "You're lying."

Blair pulled his sleeve up and thrust his arm under the student's face. "THESE SCARS SAY DIFFERENT."

He saw Robin Newman's eyes drop down to the desktop. She was unable to look at him. She was shaking her head as her eyes started to fill with tears. The other students were shocked into silence.

Blair turned his back on them and walked back to the lectern. "I assigned chapter ten for reading last week. Who wants to give me an example of an endogamous society?"

The silence held for a long minute and then the soccer team got to their feet and began to clap. One by one the other students, with scowls directed at the GDP wannabes, joined them, until the whole class was clapping, showing their support for their teacher.

Tipp slowly got to his feet and stared at Sandburg. Then he said, in a voice heavy with threat, "they will get you for this, Sandburg. Come on, gang." He turned to storm out of the lecture hall but didn't hear anyone following. He turned and looked over his shoulder. "What are you waiting for? Let's go. I'm taking this to Officer Dexter. I need you to bear witness to this outrage." He smirked at Blair as the others got to their feet. The smug look vanished when they untied the leashes and threw them in the trash. When they sat down, they wouldn't meet his eyes and Ian knew he had lost. He practically ran from the room, his face scarlet with rage and embarrassment.

Robin Newman buried her head in her hands. Daryl's hands clenched in his jacket as everything that he had learned at school came crashing down.

Jim Ellison stood outside of the lecture hall, listening as his guide, his friend, used his mind and heart and that deep, guiding Voice to give a much-needed lesson to some small minded people. He winced as Blair described his bonding to a sentinel who "didn't even want a guide" and whispered, "That was before I knew you were the guide, Chief." He finally relaxed and smiled as he heard the clapping. His guide had won; it was a small victory but an important one.

The smile disappeared as Tipp came out of the lecture Hall. He moved toward the student, his long strides eating up the ground. He latched onto Tipp's arm and easily turned the kid around to face him. The student tried to pull free, ready to chew out whoever had grabbed him. He looked up into the face of a Dark Sentinel and felt himself go cold. The voice continued the freezing process.

"We are going to talk, Mister Tipp. Now"

Ian was frog marched into the GDP office, his toes barely scrapping on the floor. "Lieutenant Harris, now." Ian smirked as Ellison delivered that cold command. Once a real GDP officer got here, he'd be off the hook. That guide had better watch out. The thought was vindictive. The receptionist wasted no time in carrying out Ellison's order. This was an irate sentinel and that equated to a dangerous one.

"Sentinel Prime Ellison, how can I help you?"

"We need to talk, Lieutenant, about what this..." Tipp was shaken as if the sentinel were a terrier and he a rat... "individual and his friends have been up to."

"Come into my office, Sentinel."

Lieutenant Harris stepped back as the sentinel walked into his office and tossed the young man he "escorted" into a chair. Someone who didn't know better, unlike Harris, might think that he misjudged his strength as the chair, and the young man, nearly went over backward. Oh, this is not good. That kid is lucky he's still in one piece.

"What's going on, Sentinel?" He kept his voice level, trying to calm the irate detective down. Wishing the guide was there.

"The attack on my guide's office is the work of Mister Tipp here and his friends. It appears that they have decided that my guide is not welcome at Rainier."

Tipp looked to the GDP officer for support. What he saw was a cold face and eyes filled with disgust looking at him. "You have done what, Mister Tipp?"

"He's a guide. He shouldn't be here, he...." There was a whine in the student's voice.

"And you decided to do something about it." Harris turned to Jim. "I will have Tipp and the others suspended for now until we can investigate this situation. Please, Sentinel Ellison, give my apologies to Guide Sandburg for the trouble. These are not the sort of people we want for the GDP." Harris eyed Tipp coldly. "This WILL NOT happen again, I promise you that."

Ellison scanned the lieutenant with senses on alert. The officer was telling the truth. "I'll leave it in your hands, Lieutenant." He turned to leave. Harris' voice followed him.

"Thank you for showing such restraint in this matter, Sentinel Prime."

"This time, Lieutenant, this time."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The students filed out of the lecture hall until the only people remaining were Daryl Banks and Blair.

Daryl hesitated, unsure what to say. "Gui... Mr. Sandburg, can I talk to you?" Blair came over and took a seat one tier down. He looked up at the Captain's son.

"What do you want to talk about, Daryl?" He encouraged the boy.

"I was there when they did your car. I..." Tears were sliding down the boy's cheeks. "I never did anything like that before. I was mad. At Dad and you. Dad said he would let me speak to Sentinel Ellison but every time I was going to..." Daryl trailed off as he realized how pathetic he was going to sound to the grad student. "I never realized they used... that they hurt you. I thought... I learned..."

"You thought what they taught you to think. Just treat this as a learning experience." Blair smiled. "A rather steep learning curve but one all the same."

Daryl couldn't help but respond to the understanding and forgiveness he read in the grad student. "I am sorry, Mr. Sandburg."

"Let's make it Blair, Daryl. You're not one of my students."

"Blair, I really am sooo sorry."

Jim had been listening in to the conversation between his guide and Daryl Banks. He had heard enough to realize that the kid had been listening to his guide when he poured his heart out to his class. Jim turned as Simon Banks came up. "What brings you here, Simon?"

"Lieutenant Harris rang me and told me what was going down here. Sorry, Jim. I thought my talk might have done some good, made him think, but if he was party to what went on today... We are going to have words. He will treat Blair with respect, not as a second-class citizen."

Jim smiled suddenly. "I wouldn't worry too much about it, Simon. Daryl has just entered the Sandburg Zone. He'll never be the same again."

Jim broke off as Blair came out with Daryl in tow. The young boy looked up at his father. "Dad, there are some things I want you to know."

Banks dropped his hand on his son's shoulder. "I know, Son, and we will talk."


	12. Chapter 12

Jim was in Blessed Protector mode when he ushered his guide into the bullpen the next day. Rafe caught hold of H. as he started over to ask the guide a computer question that had been bugging him all morning.

 

"Ah... ah, H. Better wait. Blessed protector and mother hen."

 

Jim's head tilted and he turned towards them. A hand touched his arm and one word... "Jim"... called his attention back to his guide.

 

Rafe shook his head. "I feel sorry for Blair."

 

"For which particular reason, Rafe?"

 

"Can you imagine Jim Ellison fussing over you?"

 

H. made a dramatic shudder. "I don't want to go there, Rafe, that's the stuff of nightmares."

 

Banks bellowed into the bullpen. "Ellison, Sandburg. My office, now."

 

Commander Slater was in the office. Jim shook hands with the man and Blair nodded to him before they took seats. Slater started the ball rolling.

 

"I explained it to Simon, but I wanted to bring you both up to date personally. I interrogated Jack Wilde and he has been charged with the murder of Jerry Carver. A forensic check on the car he used to try to run down Blair found that the paint matches paint chips found on the coat Carver was wearing. He wouldn't give up any others but we've pulled in James Lamour. He's the guard that was with Wilde at Rainier when he harassed Sandburg at his office. Wilde had quite a lot to say. He claims there was nothing personal in the attacks. Wilde considers Sandburg to be a danger to the GDP order; a guide who didn't know his place in society, a rogue who was being given a chance to live an independent life."

 

Ellison reached over and squeezed Blair's arm. Slater ignored the by play.

 

"Wilde is old style GDP and be believes that Claydove is a radical who will destroy the organization. Wilde was the person who suggested Tipp make the phone calls and put up the poster in the dining hall. The whole group was in on that but only Tipp was involved in the photographs. I've called in the GDP IA and hope to catch a few more that bought Wilde's party line. In the meantime, I suggest that you watch your backs. In fact, it might be better if you could get out of town for a while until we have completed the investigation."

 

"Sandburg's been invited to go on an archaeological dig. Should have us out of town for two weeks. That should keep us out of the line of fire. How much trouble can we get into on a dig? Right, Chief?"

 

Slater heaved an actual sigh of relief. "That will be perfect. I'll keep you up to date on developments. Any questions?"

 

"The phone calls. How did he know where I was?" Blair asked. He thought he already knew the answer to that one and it made him nervous.

 

"He didn't. All he would say was that not everybody at Rainier agreed with the decision to let you into the doctoral program. We'll get them."

 

Simon stood in a clear signal that the briefing was over, at least for the sentinel and guide. Walking over to the door with them, he watched as Jim seated Blair behind the computer terminal. The he turned back to Slater.

 

Ellison stood by his desk and growled. "All right, everybody, listen up."

 

Rafe and H. exchanged long-suffering looks. Sandburg saw it and almost got the giggles. H. winked at him and then returned his attention to the sentinel.

 

"You've got half an hour to ask Sandburg any computer questions you've got and then we are out of here. Once he straightens you bozos out you might even want to buy us lunch." The grin on the sentinel's face was becoming much more familiar to his co-workers since Sandburg had showed up.

 

H. blew a beautiful raspberry. "Hey, Ellison, when you can straighten us out about computer questions, we'll buy you lunch. Until then, we buy Hairboy lunch. You can come along if you want." H. invited generously.

 

Blair was showing Rafe and H. a shortcut into the NCIC database when the phone rang.

 

Blair hesitated one moment and then a grin blossomed on his face and he scooped the receiver up. It was just a phone, that's all. The calls were over.

 

"Ellison's desk. Sandburg speaking."

 

Blair froze as he heard the whispered words. No! It was supposed to be over!

 

Rafe noticed the shakes begin and watched as Blair hit the record button. Fortunately, the technical team had not been around to collect the equipment.

 

"Why are you doing this to me? What have I ever done to you?" Blair demanded. Rafe was at his desk, waiting to see if they could get a trace. Ellison was standing behind the kid, both hands on his guide's shoulders and rage on his face.

 

"You draw breath, Sandburg, that's what you've done. What right has a freak like you to a place at the University?" The words were muffled as if the speaker was trying to disguise his voice. More choice epithets were poured into Sandburg's ear until the caller ran out of steam. Blair winced as the phone was slammed down on the other end of the line.

 

Rafe's face suddenly split into a grin. His voice was just above a whisper knowing the sentinel would get it. "We've got a trace. He slipped up."

 

Ellison passed it on. "Blair, we got a trace."

 

"Different voice, Jim."

 

"I know. But it's the same crime and we've got him. Come on, we're taking him down." There was a feral satisfaction in that voice that made more than one listener shiver.

 

Simon came out of his office, throwing on his coat. "I'm coming with you." He had visions of the Sentinel running the suspect over like a human tank.

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

The townhouse was a mile or so east of Rainier in an upscale development called Campus Heights. They pulled up and waited until H. called in with additional information. Simon listened and then asked.

 

"Okay, Sandburg, the house and phone, I presume, belong to William Steele. Does that ring any bells with you?"

 

"William Steele... no. Yes."

 

"Which one, Sandburg, no or yes?" Simon snapped.

 

"Y... yes. I mean I know who he is, I just never met him. Williams is another grad student working on a PhD in psychobiology. He wanted to do his dissertation on Dark Sentinels but was turned down because he didn't have a subject." His hand lightly stroked Jim's arm. The sentinel made a face.

 

"We're out here... All this has to do with a dissertation?" Simon almost yelled the word.

 

"Hey, man, the University is a jungle."

 

"And I though it was cucumber sandwiches and tea." Simon did sarcasm well. Sandburg grinned.

 

"Wish it was." Jim cut in, his voice bitter.

 

"Jim. Cool it, man. He's a student, not public enemy number one." The sentinel turned to look at his guide and realized that the empath was feeding off his emotions at that moment. From the look in his eyes, they weren't tasty.

 

"Then he shouldn't threaten my guide." It was stated with all the venom of a dark sentinel.

 

William Steele's face was a picture of confusion as he answered his door, only to find himself plastered against the wall. A hand caught the front of his sweater and he was lifted bodily off the floor until he was-to-face with the personification of rage. The man looming into his private space wore an ice-cold expression and seemed to be only a breath away from inflicting bodily harm on him. "You dare threaten my guide?" The words were hissed into his ear. Steele was grateful when he thrown at a uniformed policeman. The sentinel looked as if he could no longer trust himself not to make him a smear of the wall.

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

The grad student sat in the interrogation room, looking at the walls and wondering when he could make his one phone call. He jumped slightly when the door was opened; for a moment fearing it was the sentinel entering. The man had scared the hell out of him at the house. He had looked too in control. If that control broke... William was sure he would have been the next thing the sentinel broke. He relaxed slightly as two plainclothes policemen came in and introduced themselves. The smartly dressed guy was Detective Rafe; the black guy dressed in grundge, Detective Brown.

 

Steele listened as his rights where again explained to him. He tried to interrupt but the black guy continued to drone he warning until he was finished. Then the white guy spoke. "You got anything you want to say?"

 

"All right. I made a phone call to the station. I just wanted to give the guide a scare. You know what it's like to see everything that you have worked for thrown out the window and then they turn around and give it to a GUIDE? He's a nothing, shouldn't even be allowed to set foot on the University."

 

Rafe said mildly, "Seems to be that someone who had a BA and MA by the time they were 22 might deserve to be at University."

 

Steele waved that observation away. "Doesn't mean anything. He had to have lied and cheated the last time, that's the only explanation that makes sense and then they give him another chance." The student thought about what he'd just said and his eyes took on an unpleasant gleam. "Well, maybe, there is another explanation. Yeah... did you see those pictures? Maybe the "lying" he did wasn't on paper, maybe it was on his back."

 

H. shook his head slowly and did his best to keep his opinion of the man in front of him to himself. "Right now we've got you for malicious phone calls and slander. You want to tell me what else you've been up to?"

 

"Slander? What the hell do you mean slander?"

 

"Well, you just alleged that Mr. Sandburg gained his position at Rainier by carnal activities or unethical practices. Sounds like slander to me. What do you think, H.? Does that sound like slander to you?" Rafe said smoothly.

 

"Yeah, I'd say Mr. Sandburg has a case. We'd be terrific witnesses. Two detectives..."

 

William settled back in the chair. "I'm not worried. So what if I called it as I see it? I only said what a lot of people probably think and it's not like he can disprove it. I'd say the photos pretty much make my case. And, yeah, I did telephone the little freak. Have you seen him walking around the place as if he owned it? He's got his own office! It's all over the campus that Professor Higgins had the guts to throw him out of his class. Some of the professors are too kind hearted or maybe they like the way he looks." The last was said with a smirk before Steele continued. "But he'd better watch out because my dad's going to fix it."

 

"Your father is going to fix what?" Rafe was amazed that a supposedly bright student was so talkative.

 

"One of the professors spoke to my father, Anthony Steele." At the carefully blank look on both detectives' faces, he added boastfully, "he owns Steele Car Rentals. Anyway, this Prof told my dad that he's called a meeting of the Doctorate Committee. They're going to review the Sandburg situation and dad said it was a foregone conclusion that he'd be tossed."

 

"And what makes that a foregone conclusion?" Rafe asked quietly.

 

"Because if he isn't thrown out, then my father isn't going to make the sponsorship deal for the new library wing." Steele back in his chair, pleased with himself.

 

The young cop had to rein his emotions in. The kid was so smug, so sure that he was owed something. He didn't give a damn that this was Sandburg's academic career that he was jerking around with.

 

The sentinel had to leave the observation room. If he listened to one more word... he wouldn't be able to stop himself from putting a fist through the kid's face to wipe that know-it-all smirk from his face. He already knew that Steele would be unlikely to go to court. His father was big money and the Chancellor had already indicated that she didn't want the Steele situation to go any further. She might not have any say in prosecution of the GDP officer accused of murder although she made it clear that such affairs were only to be expected when you let a guide in as a TA. But she had expressed her belief that Sandburg wouldn't press charges against his fellow grad student over one little phone call. There was a clear message that he'd better not press charges. And Sandburg wouldn't. Ellison hated to think it but he knew the Steele kid would walk. He went back to his desk.

 

Blair was sitting in his chair, hugging a cup of cocoa.

 

"Jim, they checked his telephone records. This was the only call he made. The others were Tipp and his crew." Sentinel and Guide just looked at each other, communicating without words. They would get through this, just as they did everything else... together.

 

"Guide Sandburg... Blair?" The voice sounded lost and it pulled Blair back to the present. Daryl Banks stood in front of the desk. He saw the boy look to one side and flinch. Sandburg followed his gaze and shook his head warningly at his sentinel. Ellison was perched on the edge of the desk and his face showed that he had not forgiven or forgotten Daryl's role in the harassment yet.

 

"What you said in the lecture hall, about, they hurt you... was that true?" There was a plea for a qualifier in that question.

 

Blair caught his sentinel's sleeve before the older man could do anything he would regret later. He sensed the anger in the big man that anyone would call his guide a liar.

 

"It was all true, Daryl. They used a caustic wrap because I would not co-operate with their idea of 'recreational training'. It burned me and forced me to hold still while they did a lot of other things which were...well, not nice." The last few words spoke volumes. It was less the actual words than how they were said that made all the difference. That Daryl understood was clear in the way he looked away and swallowed painfully.

 

Blair could sense the boy wanted to say more but was intimidated by the sentinel and the setting.

 

"Jim, you think it would be all right if we chatted in Simon's office while he's gone?"

 

"Sure, just don't drink all the coffee. Okay?"

 

Jim watched them head towards the office. He had caught Blair looking around the bullpen and realized that the empath would want to take Daryl somewhere more private. He easily read the emotions and intent of his guide, his partner, his brother, hell... admit it, Ellison, your soul mate. There were times when he felt as if he were an empath himself, but more likely it was because Blair's face was an open book of emotions. Unlike him, Blair did not repress his feelings, they were worn on his sleeve. Jim sighed, he hadn't much cared to see some of the emotions on that expressive face lately. He wasn't doing such a good job of Blessed Protector recently and Blair had paid the price.

 

Sandburg had thought himself to be safe in the bullpen and at the University and had learned in the most brutal way that he thought wrong. Jim swore he would make sure that he could think that way again and be right. Whether the threat came from the GDP, the traditionalists or some smart alec kids, he would stop them. Blair would enjoy the freedom he had and no one was going to sour that. Jim's face hardened in anger. He picked up the phone and began to dial. When he was connected he said briefly. "It's Jim. We need to talk."

The End

 


End file.
